


Blood and Time

by nickahontas



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Because humans aren't black or white and I hate fanfics that make everyone so super one dimensional, F/F, F/M, Fem!Harry, Grimdark, Harry Has a Twin, Marauder’s Era, Re-Sorting, complex characters, grey characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2020-10-17 08:37:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20618147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nickahontas/pseuds/nickahontas
Summary: Holly Potter reveals the tale of the Potter twins to Dumbledore after being chosen to go back in time and try to stop the second wizarding war from ever happening.Or, Harry Potter has a Ravenclaw twin that would let Britain burn if it meant the people she loves are safe.(Not a wrong boy who lived story. I wanted to explore a genuine sibling relationship instead of severe bashing.)





	1. Chapter 1

It was a boring charms lecture by all accounts. Flitwick wasn't a bad Professor and the subject was never uninteresting. It was only that the weather was simply too pleasant to enjoy anything else. Even the professor found it difficult to focus on such a beautiful Friday. He didn't care for the Quidditch pitch like James Potter fantasized about. He didn't yearn for a lazy day by the lake like Sirius Black did. Filius would much rather discuss his seventh years' thesis projects in a quiet courtyard. Perhaps help a few children experiment with their spellcasting.

A beautiful girl with auburn hair studied the enchanted windows with a wistful expression. She'd already perfected the Protean charm her fifth year and would much rather work on creating her own enchanted windows. Flitwick would be more than happy to teach her, she knew.

A loud crash jerked the class out of their daydreams.

Several chairs near the front toppled sideways as a two dark figures materialized in the classroom. A pretty girl with long black braids clutched a boy to her chest. Both of them were drenched in blood.

The class stood in shocked silence for all of two heartbeats before Flitwick bellowed for them to leave, yelled for Lily to fetch the headmaster. The class halted their evacuation long enough to clear a path for the girl with auburn hair.

Three students did not obey. One, a tall young man with sandy hair and eyes too old for his face, took up guard behind his professor. He stared at the girl curiously as he listened for any more intruders. She was dressed in strange muggle clothing. Pale, bloody skin showed through rips in her tight pants and shirt. A green potion dangled from a belt. A long knife was secured on her thigh. The boy wore wizard robes. Though they didn't bare a Hogwarts crest, Remus Lupin assumed he was a Slytherin by the emerald sleeves and lining.

"Move, girl!" Flitwick ordered, already casting healing charms on the boy.

It was too late. James Potter knew it was too late. The boy was already dead. But James Potter couldn't bring himself to care about the lifeless boy that had crashed into their classroom. He couldn't stop looking at the girl. If you looked past the dirt and the blood and the bruises, it was very much like looking at a female version of James Potter. He couldn't look away from the strange mirror of himself.

Beside James, Sirius Black found he could not look away either. She looked too much like Prongs for it to be coincidental. He knew that in his bones and Sirius Black trusted his intuition. It was because of that heavy feeling in his gut that he cursed when James inched forward.

"Hello," James said softly, kneeling down in the boy's blood.

She looked up. The professor and the marauders blanched at the look in her eyes. They were empty and alight with fiendfyre at the same time. She seemed to look past him, far beyond the castle walls to only something she could see. There was a term for it in gobbledegook that roughly translated to 'the thousand yard stare'.

"Hello," James tried again. "Is he your friend?"

She turned those eyes on to him. Lily's eyes, he realized.

"Is that your friend?"

He didn't expect her to speak, so he was surprised and oddly relieved when she spoke in a rough voice.

"Brother."

James nodded knowingly. "I have friends that are like brothers too. Could you let go? So we can take care of him? I'll treat him like my own brothers, I promise."

She clutched the body closer, shaking her head vehemently.

James slid forward in the blood. Sirius muttered a curse.

"Don't!" He warned. "She reeks of dark magic."

The girl looked up sharply and something flashed in her eyes. Something almost human.

"Siri," she breathed.

The door slammed open. Neither Professor Flitwick nor Remus Lupin rose their wands. Neither were wholly human and had differentiated between the footsteps of the staff long ago- for very different reasons.

Albus Dumbledore thundered through in vivid paisley robes. Lily Evans was on his heels (No one had told her to leave, so she didn't see the harm in staying.). He took in the scene without faltering his furious pace. He drew up short beside James, peering into the girl's face as she and Sirius stared at one another. Dumbledore squatted next to the teenagers with a spryness unexpected of his age. He held a vial of clear liquid out.

"Do you know what this-?"

She ripped the bottle from his hands, uncorked it with her teeth, spat the cork out into the floor, and downed enough Veritaserum for the whole of Gryffindor house. The haunted light in her eyes dimmed to a glossy vacancy. She uttered a little sigh of relief.

"Everyone out. Fili-"

"No." The girl interrupted in a dull voice. "I need Sirius and Moony to believe me."

Dumbledore's grey eyebrows rose. "Very well. Do you know who we all are?"

"Yes."

"Do you know where you are?"

"Yes."

"How did you come to be here?"

"A blood ritual created by the Babylonians. Luna found it and was killed for it, but she got the instructions to us. Theodore and I made it." Her hands clawed into the body clutched to her chest.

"If you release Theodore, I swear that we will take the utmost care of him."

The girl's lips pulled down. "I don't trust you."

Dumbledore took in a sharp breath at that. He peered into the girl's dead, familiar eyes, and forced his way into her mind. He could only find a vast starry sky. The more he tried to search between the stars and peel them back to reveal their secrets, the more stars appeared. They twinkled brightly, flashing annoying light at his psyche.

For such a young girl to have such astounding occlumency shields! And overdosed on veritaserum as well! Though really he could expect nothing less of a Ravenclaw. It was obvious with the - admittedly fabulous- holographic boots, her navy shirt, and the form of her shields. He had never seen the girl, however, and she bore such a strong resemblance to Mister Potter...

Remus Lupin interrupted Dumbledore's thoughts when he dropped to one knee beside the girl. Blood seeped into his patched trousers.

"Hello," he said in a soft, conversational tone. "What is your name?"

"My name is Holly Marie Potter."

Remus glanced at his friend, who had gone very still. He cleared his throat to compose himself.

"And this is Theodore, yes?"

She nodded.

"Do you trust me when I say that Professor Flitwick will protect and care for Theodore until you are able?"

Her brows furrowed but eventually, she let the boy fall. The charms professor immediately began casting spells. The girl watched the body vanished under a sheet with a blank stare.

"What did the ritual do?" Dumbledore demanded.

"It sent me here."

"And where is here?"

"The old charms classroom on the third floor."

Lily Evans noticed the word choice and sucked in a breath. Dumbledore silenced her with a glare.

"_When_ is here?" He asked.

"I don't know exactly." The girl said in that dull, drugged way. She did not even notice that the professor had left with her friend's corpse. "We aimed to go back twenty two years. Sirius is alive and young, so I must be close."

Dumbledore's shoulders sagged with every word she spoke. "The year is 1977. Is this the year you meant to travel to?"

"Yes," She confirmed with a happy sigh.

"Why?"

"Voldemort won the war. The last of us put it to a vote. Sirius was the only one to veto the idea, but then he would rather the world end than put Harry or I through anything else. He's rather selfish that way."

"Who is Harry?" Remus asked, just as Dumbledore said, "Tell me how we lost the war."

"Harry is my twin," the girl answered. Then, without any hesitation, she barreled into an answer for the Headmaster. "There was-"

"ENOUGH!"

James Potter glowered down at the girl drugged out of her right mind and covered in the blood of her brother.

"Am I right in assuming that you are my daughter?"

"Mr. Potter, this is most unwise."

James ignored his headmaster, his stubborn gaze set on the mysterious Potter girl.

"Yes," she affirmed.

He nodded stiffly. "Right. Then as her father, I demand this questioning stop."

The room was silent. Sirius, a string of curse words flying through his mind, re-positioned his wand so that it aimed at Dumbledore. Remus, who was thinking rather the same sort of thoughts, shuffled around so that the girl was behind him. Lily Evans gaped at all three of them.

The door was thrown open. Flitwick reappeared with a plump elderly witch and a fat bald wizard. The witch, who took in the room with a very impressive scowl, immediately began waving her wand over the girl and berating everyone in the room. She declared to be particularly upset with Lily and Remus for not having more sense. Lily blushed, but Remus did not move from his protective position.

"Slughorn," the woman went on. "I'll need a veritaserum antidote or a bezoar brought to the hospital wing. If we're lucky her body will treat it as poison. Filius, Lily, be so kind as to clear the halls for me. There, there, Remus, you know I'll sort this all out. Good. Oh, dear..."

She glanced from the girl, over her shoulder at James, and back again.

"I might have known a Potter would be involved. Does she have a name?"

"Holly Marie Potter," Holly answered promptly.

"Do you have any fatal injuries?"

"I don't know."

The healer rolled her eyes. "Can you make it to the hospital wing?"

Holly frowned. She grabbed on to Remus's shoulder to haul herself up. Her legs trembled and her head swam. He stood, wrapping his arm around her waist to support her weight. James whispered something to Sirius before rushing over to help.

"Very well. Let's go."

The strange motley exited the classroom. Everyone was too preoccupied to notice Sirius break away from their parade or notice Dumbledore double back into the classroom. He cast every charm he knew over the area where the girl had appeared. There were no answers to be settle his conscious; only slick blood and the foulness of dark magic.


	2. Chapter 2

Euphemia Potter glared at her husband. She'd told him a thousand times not to go potioneering. The morning tea leaves had warned of something dreadful. She'd told him to be prepared, to keep his wand at hand and stay dressed. As it was, when Sirius Black barreled through the front door, Fleamont Potter had to take five minutes to stabilize his latest experiment before he could find his way to the kitchen.

Worse, they hadn't had the time to prepare for their visit to Hogwarts. Monty was still in his splotchy, stained lab robes. He looked terribly out of place in the pristine medical ward. By the sound of things, a confrontation with Dumbledore was inevitable and she'd rather not do it with her husband in such a disheveled state.

"And you!" She snapped at Sirius, who was creeping back to the doors. "Where do you think you're going?"

He blanched. "I didn't want to-"

"For Merlin's sake! Pray tell how one intrudes on their own family?!"

"Mum!" James cried, popping out from behind a curtained bed. He rushed to gather his mother in his arms. "I'm so glad you're here. She's asleep, but she isn't well."

"Who, dear? Sirius hasn't explained. He's only said you were safe but needed us at the castle immediately. "

"It's not easy to explain." Sirius mumbled.

"Well..." James broke off, his gaze wandering back to where a girl must be sleeping.

"Oh!" Monty exclaimed. "Will there be a baby in the family?"

The blood drained from Euphemia's face at James's speechlessness. James was never speechless. He was just as loud and boisterous as his father.

"No!" He finally said. And then, just as her heart started back up, he caused it to stop again. "Well, yes technically, but...damnit Mum, don't look at me like that! It's best if you see for yourself."

Monty cast a wide eyed glance at her. She couldn't bring herself to reply. Instead, she steeled herself-she was a Slytherin, not a reckless Gryffindor- and followed her son through the white drapes.

The small area was heavily warded for privacy. The Matron had also cast darkening charms, giving the curtained room a somber effect. It put her in mind of a funeral.

"Crone's tits!" Monty cursed.

"Fleamont Potter!" Euphemism chastised.

Her husband didn't pay her a bit of attention. His entire being was focused on the girl in the bed.

Euphemia couldn't curse. She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. _Technically_, James had said. He had _technically_ impregnated someone. And Sirius had been ranting about time travel. She hadn't believed it, not really. To say her sons were dramatic would be a gross understatement.

The girl completed the funeral visage. She was filthy and cut and scarred and looked to be mostly dead, but she was undeniably a Potter. Undeniably James. That wild black hair, the thin face, Euphemia's own long Flint nose. Undeniably, utterly James.

"She's beautiful," Monty murmured.

He reached to brush her wild hair back. They all startled as she jerked upright. She fumbled in the sheets, knocked the flower off the bedside table, and when she still couldn't find her wand, she ripped the covers off. Her breathing grew panicked, vivid green eyes widening as she scratched at the bare skin of her calf.

"Holly!" James cried.

He glanced at his parents for help. Euphemia rolled up her sleeves to get to work. Healthcare was not her forte, but until James fetched Madam Wilkins, there was nothing to be done.

Nothing, it seemed, except Sirius Black.

He squeezed through and sat gingerly on the bed.

"Holly," he said softly. "Enough. You don't need your wand."

Euphemia gasped and took a step back at the look in the girl's eyes. They were empty. So dead and yet burning. On fire with mad fervor. This girl, her granddaughter out of time, was as mad as a loon.

"No." Holly croaked. She scrambled back against the headboard. "You're not him. You're not Sirius."

"Holly!" Sirius said, more sternly this time. "You need to rest! I'll watch over you. We all will."

She looked over his shoulder at the three of them. Her eyes darted from one face to the next, lingering on James the longest. The fear melted into despair and her entire body seemed to melt into itself.

"It worked. It worked. They're all dead. Theo. I killed-" she choked on a sob, her pale face streaked with tears. "He's dead. They're all dead. It worked. I didn't want it to work but it had to work. Harry, Sirius! Harry and Theo. My brothers are dead. I'll never see any of them again. Why did it work? I wanted it to kill me too. Why can't it have kill-"

"Shhhh, shhh." He wrapped his arms around the girl's bony shoulders. She collapsed into him, her sobs dissolving into screams. hat scream was the scream of mothers, of soldiers on a battlefield. The hairs raised on Euphemia's arm.

"Shhhh. It's alright. I've got you. I've got you," Sirius mumbled.

He glanced imploringly over his shoulder. Euphemia turned to her husband, but Monty was already gone.

The curtains opened and Dumbledore strode through. He towered over them all, his pointed wizard's hat only adding to the effect. He raised a hand at James's angry expression.

"I give you my word I am only here to help," Dumbledore said, his face set into grim lines.

He pulled a small bottle out of his sleeve. "I had hoped Fleamont was with you-"

"Here I am," Monty called cheerfully. He carried a steaming goblet that clouded everyone's vision.

"Ah, excellent. Can you confirm that this is the Draught of Peace?" The headmaster asked.

Fleamont traded potions, holding Dumbledore's vial close to better examine it. He shook it hard. Silver specks floated in the cloudy liquid like snow.

"It is as you say." Fleamont considered the patient. "Has she consumed anything other than Veritaserum, the bezoar, and the sleeping potion?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"The combination may make her sluggish for a few days, but perhaps that's for the best." He eyed her manic grip on Sirius warily.

"I understand she needs her rest," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "I do not want to question her thoroughly. I only wish to ask her a few crucial questions before we give her your sleeping draught. I daresay she will sleep for two days after taking this. Is it wise, Fleamont? She's rather thin."

"I can't sleep." The girl interjected. She took deep, shuddering breaths between each word. "I see them all."

"This is-"

"The Elixir of Abeyance. Commonly known as Forty Winks."

Dumbledore's brows rose. "Indeed. Am I correct in deducing that you were a Ravenclaw?"

"The hat didn't even..." she broke off, staring at a spot over the headmaster's shoulder.

Suddenly, her gaze snapped to Dumbledore's with surprising clarity.

"Do you have the Pensieve yet?"

Dumbledore's brows rose even higher. "It belongs to Hogwarts."

"Take it. Take everything."

"You know it doesn't work that way," he said softly.

"You need to see. And James. Or whoever he wants. Siriu-" She went back to studying that spot above the headmaster's shoulder. It took her a long while to sort through her thoughts. "Regulus Black will die betraying Voldemort within three years. If he sees everything, he might not have to betray him. He might not have to die."

Sirius sucked in a breath. "What?! Reggie-"

Euphemia caught James's attention and after one quick gesture, Sirius was ushered out. The headmaster immediately took advantage of their absence.

"Who is your mother?" He asked.

"Lily Potter."

His beard twitched as he hid a smile. "Would you like her to come into the pensieve as well?"

"No. I want..." Her eyes welled up with tears. Fleamont shuffled forward to squeeze her hand.

"I want to give Regulus a chance. I do. He died betraying Voldemort. But Snape..." Her green eyes, Lily's eyes, bore into Dumbledore's so deeply that he found himself checking his occlumency shields. "Severus Snape is the best wizard of our age. He's a better man than you or me. We need him."

Euphemia glanced from her granddaughter to Dumbledore. She didn't recognize the name. "Who is Severus Snape?"

"A death eater," Dumbledore answered softly.

Euphemia inhaled sharply.

"Can't we save them both?" Fleamont asked.

"It isn't just about saving them," Euphemia guessed. "It's about recruiting them."

She shared a look with her granddaughter, a look that a soldier shares with another, a look a parent shares with another. It was a look shared between equals.

"I can give you a memory. I'll give them all to you, but I've got one..." She let out a shuddering breath. "I've got one that will get their attention."

"Very well. I will take the boys-"

Holly straightened in her bed. "No. Not just you. Your arrogance killed everyone I know. I won't let it happen again. I will _kill you_ before I let it happen again. Do you understand me?"

Dumbledore's blue eyes cut into hers sharply. Euphemia wasn't a legilimens, but she knew what it looked like.

"I will do it," Euphemia cut in. "I came here expecting to confront the headmaster on James's behalf. I will not be cowed. I can relay everything to my family as well."

Holly broke eye contact with the headmaster to study her grandmother. They had the same nose, the slim build, but they did not look alike. Still, they seemed to understand one another on some base level, because Holly nodded her acquiescence.

"Very well," Dumbledore said. "Would you like to wait until the potion takes affect?"

"No. Let's get it over with."

She held out a shaky hand. The steaming liquid sloshed around, but she drained it in one gulp. Dumbledore conjured a vial and bent over the girl. She tensed when he held his wand to her temple. A silvery stream of light followed the wand as it receded. The process was repeated several times. The girl's eyes began to droop closed.

"This should get us through the next few days," he said quietly. "Come, Euphemia. We have a war ahead of us."


	3. Chapter 3

Luck was on their side. The sixth year Slytherins were in a Arithmancy lecture, not too far from the Headmaster's tower. A young man with dark hair entered proudly in an attempt to hide his nerves. It would have worked if he hadn't staggered at the sight of Euphemia.

"Sirius?" He asked.

"Your brother is fine, Mr. Black. Please, sit. You are here for an entirely different matter."

He hesitated, but obeyed all the same. Dumbledore had opted for a cluster of seats around the mantle instead of the more formal setting of his desk. Regulus, to Euphemia's surprise, sat next to her on the velvet loveseat. She had only met him once before and then only in passing. He, she thought rather cruelly- looked like a poor copy of Sirius. He had the same molten silver eyes and full lips, but his hair didn't gleam and his frame was too lanky to inspire heartbreak.

"We must wait for one other guest before we may begin. In the meantime, I would like to commend you on your flying last Saturday."

"Thank you, sir."

Dumbledore really should have been in Slytherin, the manipulative bastard that he was. Nonetheless, Euphemia didn't have a better plan, so she donned a smile for her role.

"I can't say I miss school, but I do yearn for the quidditch pitch. I was the seeker for Slytherin, you know," she said.

"I didn't, actually," Regulus admitted.

"My mother hated it, of course. She said no respectable pureblood would marry an athlete. Terrible logic. It was the reason several men courted me."

Dumbledore chuckled. "I do love your story with Fleamont. Do you know it, Mr. Black?"

"I can't say I've had the pleasure."

She didn't miss the faint sarcasm in his tone.

"Oh, he doesn't care about that, Dumbledore. I'll just say that I fell in love with him the moment he bested me in a duel. He was the only other student in the school who could".

"Really?" Regulus asked, his brows raised high.

"Really. We still duel every Thursday."

"What's the running score?" Dumbledore asked.

"Eight hundred and twenty-one to nine hundred and sixty-seven. Fleamont in the lead, unfortunately."

The door opened a second time. Euphemia found "the best wizard of the age" rather disappointing. Severus Snape didn't seem to have any sense of hygiene. He was an underfed hooked nosed boy with beady black eyes that darted to everyone in the room like a cornered rat.

"Ah, Mr. Snape. Please, join us. You know Mr. Black, of course."

Snape shared a stiff nod with Regulus, his eyes as fathomless and piercing as the night sky. His mouth curled up involuntarily when he met Euphemia's gaze. She did not let him get away with it. He eventually conceded in her -admittedly petty- staring contest, using settling himself into the remaining chair as an excuse. He looked ridiculously out of place in something so comfortable.

Dumbledore as if they were gathered to share their summer exploits over tea and a pensieve. Fleamont pulled off the dottering fool facade much better than the headmaster, in her opinion.

"Gentlemen, I have a proposition to make before I introduce our guest. The subject of our discussion has made it very clear that the four of us are here as equals. As such, I propose that we use our given names. Is that acceptable?"

Euphemia nodded. Severus did too, though far more hesitantly. Regulus was the only one brave enough to speak.

"Yes, sir. Only...what is this discussion?"

She rather approved of his cautious behavior. One never went entered with their guns a-blazin', as Monty liked to say. As much as she hated his American western films, she suspected that she would miss being bored enough to suffer through them soon enough.

"In good time. Severus, this is Euphemia Potter, James's- ah yes, of course, Euphemia, -and Sirius's, mother. We were just discussing how Euphemia was a seeker for Slytherin and the second-best dueler in school during her time at Hogwarts."

Severus deferred to her with more respect upon hearing her credentials. Euphemia, however, did not care for pleasantries. She didn't marry Fleamont for the sole reason of falling iin love with him. She married him because she had no intention of pretending to be a genteel lady. The old pureblood protocols had been ingrained in her since she toddled through her father's dilapidated mansion. She simply chose to ignore them. The Flints weren't as important as the Malfoys or the Blacks and the Potters hadn't cared for generations.

"I am aware of the relationship you both have with my sons," she began. "I know my sons very well. They are not cowering innocents, as I'm sure are neither of you. These meetings, if you agree to them, are more important than our personal grudges. I expect you to behave like the adults you are."

Both boys blinked twice before chorusing "Yes, ma'am."

"Make no mistake. I may be an old woman, but like Albus, the only reason I haven't carved out a throne for myself at the Ministry is that I can't be bothered. It would not be in your best interests to underestimate me. Is that understood."

"Yes, ma'am," they repeated.

"Euphemia, please refrain from terrorizing my students." His time was kind, fleeting even, but there was a hardness to the set of his shoulders.

She countered with a winning smile. "Oh, but Albus, we are here as equals, are we not?"

He chuckled. "I must say it is refreshing to be surrounded by Slytherins. Most people forget that Grindelwald was my closest friend before fate set us on separate paths."

The boys shifted in their seats, unbelieving that Dumbledore, the paragon of light, had been close friends with one of the most feared dark wizards of the century.

"Indeed, we were very, very close, he and I. I mourn his loss every day. It is my hope that our discussion will save us all more grief. You see, we are here to speak about the man you know as Lord Voldemort."

Regulus stiffened, not daring to even breathe. Snape's hand went to his wand.

Dumbledore held up his own hand for peace.

"If you agree to these meetings, you must undergo an Unbreakable Vow that will prevent you from communicating anything you see or hear to Voldemort or any of his sympathizers. If you choose not to participate, I will remove your memory of this discussion and send you on to class."

Regulus stared at the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black. Orion Black had had some sense, but he was dead and had rolled over for his wife when he was alive. Walburga was as useful as a flobberworm. No, in fact, flobberworms were more useful than Walburga Black. The legacy of the Black family rested on Regulus' shoulders.

"I agree, sir," he finally said, his voice breaking.

"Severus?" Albus demanded.

Snape did not budge. He did not release his wand. He stood, a silent shade of the wizard he would one day become.

Dumbledore tried again. "Severus, I have a memory for us all to review. If after you see it, you still do not agree, I will remove this memory so completely that Tom will never find it. Will you at least see the memory?"

His eyes darted to the pensieve on the coffee table, to Regulus, and to Dumbledore. Something, perhaps his curiosity, or maybe the arrogance that he could outwit Dumbledore, changed his mind.

"I'll see it," he decided. .

A weight seemed to lift from the headmaster.

"Excellent!" He cried, his usual buoyancy returning. "I had hoped you would agree to join us. Now, I am sure you've both heard rumors of an arrival at Hogwarts?"

The students nodded.

"I daresay the truth is even more unbelievable than the stories. You see, a young woman sent herself back in time. She appeared with a dead body in the middle of a charms lecture."

The students were too stoic, too Slytherin, to allow themselves anything other than raised brows.

"She performed an ancient blood ritual from the Middle East. Interestingly enough, she appeared in the same class as her future father."

Regulus slowly turned to Euphemia. "Sirius..."

"No. James, I'm afraid," she corrected. "Though she seems far more comfortable with your brother than her own father. I can only assume he died young….As you were meant to."

He stiffened as the words sunk in.

Severus eyed the headmaster carefully. "And what did she say of me? Why am I here?"

"She said that you are the greatest wizard of your generation."

Severus tensed, unwilling to believe that someone would acknowledge him in such a way.

"Who is she, exactly?" He demanded.

"Under Veritaserum, the girl revealed herself to be Holly Marie Potter, daughter of James Potter and Lily Evans. The war had been lost or was on the precipice. Matters were so dire that the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix voted to send one of their own back to prevent the war from happening altogether. Miss Potter offered up her memories with a set of conditions. You, Regulus, are one of them."

"But why?"

"For Sirius, I presume. She seems to love Sirius a great deal, and your brother loves you. She believes that your death will be postponed if you see all that is to happen. As for Severus, I believe she means to save and recruit you. However, that decision is your own to make.

"But where were we? Ah, conditions. The stipulation. Miss Potter claims that my arrogance cost us the war. She demands that someone accompany me to analyze her secrets. Who better for that position than three Slytherins?"

"You seem far too entertained by that, Albus," Euphemia noted drily.

"In all seriousness, I am delighted to have such a different perspective on these matters."

"So if we agree we'll be watching her memories in the Pensieve and discussing them after?" Regulus asked.

Dumbledore nodded in confirmation. "You understand the need for such a drastic measure as the Unbreakable Vow?"

"Yes, sir. Knowledge of the future is dangerous."

"Indeed it is, Regulus. I have already added the first memory into the pensieve. We need only touch one another and lean in."

Euphemia offered herself as a buffer for the men. Albus and Regulus gripped her elbows gently, Severus on his classmate's other side. The odd company hunkered over the stone basin and suddenly found themselves toppling into a cold rush of magic.

A cemetery alight with stars came into view. Gravestones covered the hills surrounding them. At their feet, a slender teenager scampered to her feet. Vivid green eyes took in the rolling hills, the innumerable tombstones. She breathed in once, twice, tightened her grip on her wand, and crouched against a statue.

"This trophy says the 'Triwizard Tournament'. What is that?" Regulus asked. He hunkered over a discarded golden cup.

"A competition between students of Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, and Hogwarts that was banned long ago after many deaths," Dumbledore answered. "I cannot see myself agreeing to it unless I was pressured by the ministry."

A silver beast erupted from the girl's wand. Something canine, perhaps some obscure breed of dog.

"Remarkable," Dumbledore murmured.

Holly scrunched her face up in concentration. After reaching a decision, she twirled her wand at her Patronus.

"Sirius Black," she whispered, eyes darting around the graveyard. "Portkey cup. Beesy to hide when-"

But the Patronus had already disappeared. Holly gulped, then took a deep breath and stood. Her navy clothes were black in the night and her hair was as dark in the shadows. She might have been able to escape with stealth if it weren't for her pale skin.

"Wormtail," something croaked. Someone, maybe.

They watched as Holly's fear hardened into a frightful rage. Her eyes shone bright, the grip on her wand steadied. Her breathing, which had been erratic and heavy, slowed.

Peter Pettigrew slipped through two graves. He carried a bundle of dark fabric that nearly reached the ground. Holly didn't seem to notice. She couldn't stop staring at Peter.

"Master, it's the girl, only the girl." He licked his lips nervously. "The boy isn't here."

A harsh curse sounded from the dark cloth. "Very well. She will have to do."

Holly snarled, a red light flashed, and the memory shifted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I've edited these past three chapters. Chapter Three has major changes, so you can't get away with not rereading it. Comments keep me going!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I've edited the last few chapters. Chapter 3 has changed drastically. If you don't at least skim it you won't have any idea what's going on. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!! <3

Thick ropes secured the girl to a tombstone. A piece of parchment hovered at her feet. Peter consulted it intermittently as he added ingredients to a large, bubbling cauldron. The wrapped thing lay silently in the wet grass. 

Albus stepped closer to the cauldron with Severus. Euphemia followed his example and steered Regulus away from the... _ thing _ . Children, no matter how close to adulthood, should have to encounter the darkest parts life had to offer. The two of them watched as Holly wriggled against the tombstone in purposeful movements. She relaxed at whatever she found, slumping in her bonds to subject herself to whatever horror awaited. Checking for whatever backup weapons she had stowed away, Euphemia would bet. 

The others care to study Holly as Peter finished the ritual. Euphemia knew what was going to happen, but she clenched her wand tight nonetheless as Peter approached with a goblin made dagger. 

“Blood of the enemy, unwillingly given,” he chanted. 

Holly spat down into his face. He recoiled but did not relent. Cold fury filled Euphemia as he spilled her granddaughter’s blood. It was nearly black in the night. 

“I will kill you Wormtail,” the girl swore. “I swear by all the blood of mine that you have shed that I will kill you.”

Peter stumbled under the force of the blood oath, magic as old and dark as the ritual he had forced her into. 

“And under a full moon,” Regulus whispered, almost in awe. 

“ENOUGH!” The thing in the grass croaked. 

Peter hurried his movements. They became even more quick and frenzied. The bones of the father were retrieved messily and when he cried and his hand splashed into the cauldron, a cold, cruel laugh echoed through the cemetery. 

“Pussy,” Holly taunted. 

Regulus choked. 

Euphemia looked away when Pettigrew picked up the bundle. She clenched Regulus’ shoulder, forcing him to stare at her granddaughter instead. There were too many horrible possibilities, too many things that another child should not have to see. He didn’t need to know what sort of foul thing splashed in the cauldron.

Eventually, Holly’s exhaustion morphed into a fear that was hardly human. Tears welled in her eyes, catching on her lashes. 

“My wand, Wormtail,’ a high, cold voice ordered.

Euphemia stared hard at her granddaughter, willing somehow for her presence to make itself known, willing against all sense and logic so that Holly knew she wasn’t in this hell alone. Euphemia would hold her hand and brave the devil himself with her. 

“Your arm,” Voldemort ordered. 

“Master is too kind,” Peter sobbed. 

“Your other arm, Wormtail.”

Then, as Pettigrew screamed, Holly did something very odd. She whispered a name. Whispered it so quietly that it might have gone unnoticed if stray tendrils of her wild hair hadn’t shifted. 

Cracks sounded as towering robed figures appeared in the graveyard. Metal masks glinted under their hoods. Euphemia studied the Death Eater as they apparated to hovel at their master’s feet. They formed a semicircle around him, leaving gaps for the deserters and the dead. The Dark Lord spoke many names, some of which Euphemia knew all too well. Regulus inhaled sharply when Bellatrix was revealed to be in Azkaban. She noticed, however, that Severus was not mentioned by name.

Malfoy fawned over his lord, asking about his miraculous return. 

And so Euphemia heard it all. Heard how Peter- fucking Peter Pettigrew- betrayed her son, how her son and his wife were murdered, how her daughter in law‘s sacrifice saved her grandson, how that grandson had thwarted Voldemort three times because of that love.

And then Voldemort cast the torturing curse on Holly. 

As her slender body crashed against the marble, a broken noise escaped Euphemia. Her chest cracked with the force of her fury. Albus clutched her close, whispering sensical sentiments in her ear. 

Holly was tortured again. And again.

She did not scream. Blood trickled from a bit tongue, she grunted and moaned, tears fell down her face, but she did not scream. 

“Silence!” Voldemort ordered. 

The Death Eater’s laughter stopped. 

He tilted his head and twirled his wand in his long, long fingers as he regarded Holly. Euphemia shivered under his scarlet gaze. 

“You have impressed Lord Voldemort, Holly Potter. Your strength is shadowed by your brother’s fame. Many Death Eaters could not have resisted Lord Voldemort’s cruciatus so well.”

Holly spat a glob of blood onto the ground. 

“Wonder how Wormtail will hold up under mine,” she said sluggishly. 

Voldemort let out a loud cackle of laughter. “And your bloodlust is genuine! Lord Voldemort can see all the things you feel, all the things you know. Nott!”

One of the robed figures stepped forward and kneeled. “Yes, my lord.”

The dark lord spoke without breaking eye contact with his prisoner. “Her mind shows that your son is a promising young man. Your family is to be rewarded. Lord Voldemort rewards his loyal followers....and,  _ oh _ , how I will reward Severus….” 

A young Severus twitched. His long face paled until it turned as white as bone. 

“I wondered how you came to be here instead of your brother. I planned so well to have his corpse at my feet tonight. Alas, I underestimated your ambition.” Holly didn’t answer. She just worked on getting more blood out of her mouth. He turned back to his cult of sycophants. Louder, he boomed, “Your Lord has made a mistake. Yes, even Lord Voldemort is not infallible. Harry Potter will not die at my hands tonight. His sister unwittingly postponed his death.” Voldemort continued softly so that even Euphemia and her cohorts had to lean closer. “Months of planning were thwarted by a girl’s ambition. While her brother and Diggory were arguing why the other should take the cup, Holly Potter disillusioned herself to snatch it from under their very noses. Oh, their faces were amusing to behold.” 

He waved his wand. The ropes snapped and Holly crashed to the ground. She rose on trembling legs, snapping her wrists to restore the blood flow. 

“Wormtail, her wand. Lord Voldemort is merciful. Holly Potter will be given the chance to die in combat as her fool of a father should have.” 

_ His wand _ , Euphema realized. _ James always leaves his wand lying around. I will kill that boy myself.  _

Holly accepted her wand, but not before kicking at Wormtail. She missed her target, but her glittering boots -how she had managed to sneak past anyone with such ridiculous boots was beyond Euphemia- struck Wormtail’s thigh hard enough to bruise.

“Enough, girl!” Voldemort spat. “Has Dumbledore taught you to duel?” 

Severus inhaled sharply behind them. Euphemia wavered. This monster must have defeated Dumbledore in the future. How could a teenage girl survive against him? 

Holly did not seem to share their concerns. She gripped her wand tightly as she strode forward, head high. The Death Eaters encircled them, the girl and the monster. She bowed to her opponent too hastily for protocol. Voldemort gave his own sorry excuse for one in return. 

“Do you know what my wand is made of?” Holly asked rather suddenly. 

The Dark Lord paused. He decided to humor the girl he would soon kill. 

“No,” he said, sounding amused. 

She gazed at the dark wood in her hands lovingly. “I told Ollivander I didn’t want one his bullshit three cores. I wanted to be special. He only had twelve, I think. This one chose me: english wood oak with rougarou hair.” 

Voldemort’s snakelike face split into a grin. “An excellent wand for the dark arts, Holly Potter. It will serve me well.” 

She spat more blood on the grass. “Just don’t let Wormtail have it.”    
Voldemort cocked his head to the side. “Lord Voldemort will grant your dying wish. Any last words, Miss Potter?”

“You used to be fit, Tom. It’s a shame I’ll have to die looking at a face like that instead of your old one.” 

Voldemort snarled, raised his arm. The girl did the same. 

Several things happened at once. An inhuman voice screamed out the killing curse. Another deeper, raspier one yelled out his own. Two jets of green light met and exploded. A girl’s voice rang out louder than either of them. 

“EXTA EXACTIO!” Holly bellowed, moving her wand in a complicated hooking movement. 

Behind Voldemort, Peter Pettigrew shrieked and collapsed on the ground just as a sick squelch interrupted all of the screams. His body exploded. Long, thick, ringling pink cords flailed from his torso . He screamed and cried and screamed even as he suddenly disappeared. Only blood stained grass remained. 

“FUCK!” The deep voice barked. “TO THE CUP, HOLLY. BACK TO THE CUP.”    
Sirius Black materialized out of thin air. He looked horrible, like a corpse brought back to life. His wand whipped back and forth as he slowly backed away in an attempt to reach a gravestone for cover. 

Holly did not obey. She practically shoved her back against his. The night exploded with color, the green of death most among them all. She did her best to ward off the approaching Death Eaters while Sirius attempted to fight back against the Dark Lord. 

Voldemort screamed something Euphemia couldn’t catch, something about ‘mine’, but before his soldiers could obey, another crack echoed through the battlefield. 

“No fucking way,” Regulus said. 

Euphemia followed his line of sight. A skinny, scared house-elf had appeared beside Holly and Sirius. 

Beesy! Beesy to hide, Holly had said. And the name she had whispered. Beesy. 

The last thing any of them heard was Voldemort’s infuriated screech as a little house elf ruined his plans. 

The graveyard shifted itself into the headmaster’s office. A haggard Sirius Black reeled backwards, catching himself on a table. Several instruments clattered to the ground. Holly and the house elf collapsed where they stood. 

“YOU IDIOT GIRL!” Sirius bellowed. 

She flinched as he threw himself forward and pried her wand out of her stiff fingers. He immediately began waving it around, absentmindedly casting spells. Several scorches appeared on the floor as he did so. 

He threw his head back and roared, “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!”

Euphemia thought he might be yelling at the heavens, but several of the portraits lining the domed ceiling suddenly cleared. 

“Son, what has happened?” Philleus Nigelus Black’s portrait asked. 

Sirius barked out a harsh laugh. “I just dueled the fucking dark lord is what has happened.”

“He’s back?!” A former headmistress gasped. 

“Yes, he’s back. Are they near?”

“Wh-what are you doing?” Holly interrupted. 

He glanced down. All of her emotions had melted into utter exhaustion. She seemed to be holding herself up on the house elf as much as comforting the pitiful creature. 

“Clearing your wand since you’re a FUCKING IDIOT!”

A particularly brutal stunner chipped away at the hardwood. 

“I’M AN IDIOT?!” She shoved the house elf away. “YOU’RE THE ONE WHO TRIED TO TAKE ON VOLDEMORT!”

“TO GET YOU OUT! WHY DID SHE TAKE PETER, HOLLY? WHY DID BEESY TAKE PETER INSTEAD OF YOU?”

“YOU WERE DUELING WITH FUCKING VOLDEMORT! YOU WOULD HAVE DIED, SIRIUS! HE WOULD HAVE KILLED YOU! OR WORSE!” 

“I DID IT TO PROTECT YOU! YOU SHOULD HAVE GONE TO THE CUP, NOT WENT AFTER PETER!”

“BULLSHIT! YOURE JUST PISSED BECAUSE I GOT-“

“JAMES AND LILY DID NOT DIE FOR YOU TO GET YOURSELF KILLED OVER A FUCKING RAT!”

Something crashed, causing them to jump into action. Sirius pushed Holly behind himself. The elf apparated to stand in front of her as well, hands raised to call up her own magic. An Albus Dumbledore with a longer beard and heavily lined face strode into the room. He pointed his wand at Sirius. 

“How did James take his eggs?” He demanded. 

“Poached, except for with bangers. What was his cat named?”

“Minnie, to Minerva’s consternation.”

The men lowered their wands. A skinny boy with messy hair shoved past both of them. 

“Holly!” He cried, wrapping his twin in a bone-crushing hug. 

A towering, hook nosed man hurried into the room. Severus stared at the older version of himself. Time had done nothing to improve his looks, but it had given him a certain gravitas that demanded attention. 

“Albus, he’s back,” Snape was saying desperately. 

Dumbledore’s lips thinned. He looked back at Sirius. 

“Is this true?” 

Sirius nodded. 

“How? What happened?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t there for it all.” 

“I couldn’t call for Beesy until…” Holly took a shuddering breath. “Until h-he summoned his followers.”

“She needs the medical wing, Dumbledore. She was crucioed three times by Voldemort himself.”

Dumbledore ignored him. He looked from the wand in Sirius's hand to Holly and back again, piecing something together. 

Another man, this time in pinstriped robes, skidded to a halt in the doorway.

“It’s Pettigrew, Dumbledore. It was him, alright. Or what’s- BLOODY HELL IT’S SIRIUS BLACK!”

“Minister-“

“Oh no.” Euphemia gasped. Why in Merlin’s name was Cornelius Fudge minister of magic? And during a war! 

“A Sirius Black who is obviously innocent, Cornelius, if Pettigrew was delivered to us tonight. None of that matters now. Voldemort has returned.”

Fudge paled. “N-no. It’s n-n-not possible. He’s dead. He died thirteen years ago.”

“I fought him tonight, you bloody fool! He’s as alive as you or me.”

The minister cowered away from the manic convict. “Now, see here, Black-“

“You see here  _ Cornelius. _ I was never given a trial. I did not spend twelve years in Azkaban and the one after EATING RATS AND THEN DUEL WITH FUCKING VOLDEMORT TONIGHT TO DEAL WITH YOUR-“

“HE TOOK MY BLOOD!” Holly screamed, her voice cracking. She jerked up her sleeve to reveal a deep, scabbing cut. “There was some kind of ritual. H-he needed the bones of the father, the hand of the servant, and the blood of the enemy. He came back. He looks...h-he-he looks like a snake.”

Her twin squeezed her hand so hard that his knuckles turned white. 

“You’ve been through an ordeal, young lady-“ Fudge tried. 

Snape snarled. He ripped his own sleeve back. The Dark Mark pulsated on his forearm. Everyone, even Euphemia and her colleagues, flinched. 

“It appeared not a half hour ago. It hasn’t appeared-“

“What sort of show have you got going on here, Dumbledore?” Fudge demanded. “Murderers and Death Eaters in Hogwarts!”

Holly shoved her way past Snape. The professor stared down at her in distaste, affronted that anyone would dare touch him. 

“There’s only one criminal in this room, Minister. I killed Pet-“

Snape grabbed her by the back of the neck and shoved her away. 

“I’m afraid the girl is delirious. An ordeal. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. POTTER! Take your sister to the hospital wing, NOW!”

The room swirled and Euphemia was forced into that cold rush of magic once more. 

The four of them landed back in the office. Euphemia immediately collapsed onto the nearest chair. The room was emptier without the haze of war and death clouding their senses. The sun had faded away to dusk. Candles sprang to life with a halfhearted flick of Albus’s wand. She sometimes wondered if he truly need his wand outside of combat. 

“That was...it was...was it even real? Could she have tampered with it or lied?” Regulus threw his hands about as he spoke, too caught up in adrenaline to be the perfect pureblood. 

Albus sunk down into his own chair. His eyes narrowed as he mulled it over. 

“It is possible, but I am positive that the memory is genuine. Tampered or false memories are not quite so vivid. Even the most talented Occlumens cannot forge a perfect memory for a pensieve.”

“Is she an Occlumens?” Severus asked.

“Yes. I could have broken her shields, I think, if her magic were not compensating for the disastrous situation her mind had found itself in.”

“What do you mean?” Euphemia asked. 

“I mean,” Dumbledore said heavily, “that on top of leaving behind everyone she cared for in her timeline, she killed her friend, the one she called brother, to activate the portal.”

Euphemia inhaled sharply. 

“I had not wanted it to be true, but how she dealt with Peter Pettigrew confirmed my suspicions.”

“It is one thing to kill for revenge and another to save wizarding Britain!” She snapped. 

“Of course Euphemia, but everyone in this room is well versed in dark magic. We all know it is easier for someone who has already spilled blood to do so again.”

“Do you think she killed before Pettigrew?” Regulus wondered. 

“No.” Severus answered. Everyone turned to look at him. He disguised his discomfort with haughtiness as he elaborated. “She was on the verge of a mental breakdown. I study Legilimency. It is more than reading the mind.”

“What I would like to know,” Euphemia hissed through her teeth, “is why she was there in the first place? Why would she be in the tournament? Why is Voldemort so fixated on my grandchildren?!”

“Peace, Euphemia. I do not know any more than you. We are all seeing this for the first time.”

“Then take us back. Take us back to the start, to where it all began.”

“I cannot do that until we sort out the problem of our young guests.”

She rounded on Severus and Regulus. 

Regulus raised his hands placatingly. “I’m in. The House of Black does not grovel to madmen, no matter how impressive his magical knowledge may be. I will not put the fate of my family in that thing’s hands.  _ That being said, _ I cannot support you, Albus. Whatever happened, my brother was sent to Azkaban without a trial. I have duties as an heir, and no matter what my mother says, Sirius is my brother.”

She didn’t particularly care about Regulus and his reason. Her attention snapped to Severus. He sneered nastily. 

“My reasons are my own.”

It was enough for her. She tapped her wand against the pensieve impatiently, nearly throwing herself into the swirling mist of memories that appeared.    
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**First Year **

Robes of all sorts filled every last spare inch of the store. One mannequin was dressed in a set of robes with stars that actually sparkled. Further back, Holly caught a glimpse of roses blooming on a sleeve. Holly Potter was in heaven. Oh, what the girls in school would say if they saw her in one of those. She found herself drawn to a set with pinstripes that changed color.

“Holly!” Harry called.

She dropped the garment and turned guiltily. Her brother was being led by a witch with long, grey braids. She cast a longing glance at the beautiful array before catching up with Harry and the sales clerk. Aunt Petunia always said terrible things about sales clerks, so Holly assumed sales clerks were the good sort of people.

They found a boy already being attacked withtape measure. He looked like he’d walked out of an old portrait of French aristocracy. His features were pale and pointed, and his hair was an enviable shade of blonde. Holly fancied herself in love. And then he spoke.

He sounded just like Catherine Bowles from Ms. Combs’s class. Catherine-never Catie or Cathy or Cat- teased Holly mercilessly for her messy hair, unadorned ears, and second hand clothes. Holly couldn’t wear Dudley’s hand me downs like Harry, so Aunt Petunia was forced to hunt through Oxfam once a year. Holly’s clothes were very worn and hardly ever matched well.

She was still in a blue dress printed with little faded daisies from the day before. Both her and Harry’s trainers were peeling apart at the soles. There was bound to be some sort of magic to fix shoes, wasn’t there?

The boy, who had the delightfully strange name of Draco Malfoy, put her in mind of an intelligent Dudley. A thought occurred to Holly as he mentioned muggles- non magic people.

“Where do you buy normal clothes, then?” She wondered, cutting off his pompous ramblings.

“Pardon?” He asked politely.

“I only see robes here, but not everyone in Diagon Alley wears robes and you aren’t either, but you also don’t know anything about muggles so I’m guessing you didn’t pop into Harrod’s.”

He and Harry shared a glance.

“You’ll be in Ravenclaw, then,” Draco said mildly. “Mother buys my clothes. I know of Gladrags, of course, and the Witch’s Wardrobe-“

“Where are they?” She asked.

“I wouldn’t know. Say! Look at that man!”

Holly let her brother take over the conversation. She was much too busy daydreaming about new clothes than to talk about school. When the appointment was over, she interrupted Hagrid’s talk about wands to suggest shopping for clothing that fit. He agreed, flushing with embarrassment because he hadn’t thought of it. While she found Hagrid very nice, Holly couldn’t help but notice that the big man was rather blustery.

He led them to one of the stores Draco Malfoy had mentioned. Holly almost fainted when she entered; she was in heaven. Her twin however, grimaced and settled himself into a new hell.

After what seemed like an eternity to Harry, the Potter twins entered Ollivander’s in new clothes. Harry had chosen a basic wardrobe. He couldn’t be bothered to care for any of it except animated socks. Holly, by contrast, did not purchase anything unless it sparkled, glittered, or nearly blinded the casual observer with color. Her shoes were her favorite. She bought boring shoes for school, unicorn slippers for the dorms, and rainbow sneakers for everything else. Harry had to keep her from running into walls while she watched the bright hues of her sneakers contrast brilliantly with the dull sidewalk.

Ollivander’s was a bit dingy. The windows could have used a scrubbing and the cobwebs were probably older the Ollivander himself. And that was saying something. Holly couldn’t remember even seeing anyone as old as Ollivander. Nor as creepy.

“Ah! The Potter twins!”

He seemed to stare into their very souls, never once looking away as he spoke with Hagrid. Hagrid eventually left after breaking a chair. Holly was not wrong in her suspicions that it was only an excuse. Ollivander and his strange eyes were unsettling, especially when accusing one of committing a crime.

Eventually, he placed three wands on the old counter and explained the three cores. This, of course, led to a lengthy interrogation from Holly and a long suffering sigh from Harry, who let his mind wander to cats, owls, and toads.

“I don’t want a wand with one of the three cores,” Holly was protesting.

“Holly!” Harry cried, absolutely mortified.

Ollivander chuckled. “Don’t worry, young Harry. Your sister is a Ravenclaw through and through.”

“Everyone keeps saying that,” she grumbled.

He eyed them thoughtfully. “No, you wouldn’t understand. I’ll give you my copy of Hogwarts: A History. A gift from one Ravenclaw to another, yes?”

“Thank you,” Harry said earnestly.

“Don’t thank me yet, Mr. Potter. I do not doubt that you will be even trickier than your sister promises to be. But who am I to question fate? The wand chooses the wizard and the witch, after all.” He turned to disappear between the innumerable shelves. His disembodied voice floated through all of the dust. “I have five wands with imported cores, for scholarly interest, and another twelve from experiments through the ages.”

He reappeared with his arms ladened with long, thin boxes. They clambered onto the counter. Harry eyed it with distrust as he remembered the stack of dresses at Gladrags.

“These two are rather....unpredictable,” Ollivander said as he slid two boxes out of the way. “I’d rather not try them unless we must. Here, Ms. Potter. Try this. Snallygaster heartstring in pine.”

Holly raised the wand, scrunched her nose, and immediately placed it back.

“No, probably not,” Ollivander said in agreement. He frowned at the boxes. “I don’t think....No, you’re very confident, but fate is indeed fickle....Ten inches, willow wood with jackalope antler.”

She flicked the wand and a sound like a murderous tugboat deafened them all. Once recovered, Ollivander sent the box dancing through the air to its rightful place. He picked up a red box with faded lettering.

“An American colleague sent this core to me in 1911. It’s still very controversial, but those who scorn it do not study wandlore. English oak, rougarou hair. Eleven inches. Give it a swish.”

Something in her chest soared as soon as her skin brushed the brown-black wood. Holly swished it, and large bubbles floated from the tip. She turned wide eyed to her brother, who’s mouth was gaping. It was the first time they’d really seen they could do actual magic.

Ollivander was nowhere near as cheerful. He seemed grave, yet excited. Holly fought back a shudder at the look in his eyes.

“Oh yes, oh yes,” he crooned. “Yes, you two are destined for great things.”

A grin spread across his face as he stared at Harry’s forehead.

“Yes, I think I know which wand will chose you, Mr. Potter.”

—————

Holly perched on the edge of the stool.. She took a deep breath and clenched her eyes shut, but before she could even be scared, the Hat bellowed out, “RAVENCLAW!”

It hadn’t even touched her!

Professor McGonnagal gave her a bemused look. “I dare say that was even faster than Mr. Malfoy. Off you go, Ms. Potter.”

———

Holly Potter was a witch and that meant she got to make potions and the potions Professor was the furthest thing from a muggle. He was tall, with a wicked nose and an even wickeder voice and wore big, billowing robes. He was just so cool. The other students eyed her with incredulity as they all cowered in seats. They were almost too afraid to respond to the roll call.

“Holly Potter.”

“Here!”

He didn’t move on to the next student. Instead, he sneered down at her with disdain.

“Miss Potter. I dread the thought of having another idiot Potter in my class.”

The wild joy in her chest sputtered out. Maybe she was an idiot Potter for not cowering like the rest of them.

“Tell me, how can one fool Veritaserum?” He barked.

Veri-what? Aunt Petunia used all kinds of serums for wrinkles. And that Latin book she bought mentioned veritas several times. So it was probably some kind of oil that made one tell the truth, but she had no idea how to fool a truth telling face cream.

“Pity,” he drawled. “Where does one find athelas?”

“Oh! In humid, wooded areas at dusk.”

She knew that because she saw it in the herbology text and remembered reading about it in the lord of the rings, which subsequently made her wonder if Tolkien was a wizard or just got lucky with the plant.

“Something you found in a book no doubt,” he said scathingly.

Was that a nod to to the Lord of the Rings? If it was, did that mean Tolkien was indeed a wizard? Not that it mattered. There was something far more important to concentrate on: her pride.

She sniffed haughtily, trying to channel Draco Malfoy and Aunt Petunia.

“Well, how else am I supposed to know? I didn’t know I was a witch until Hagrid broke the door down a couple of weeks ago.”

Every student in the room turned to gape at her. Even Snape lost his sneer.

“What? Did you think you were a squib?” Justin Flinch-Fletchley asked, too shocked to remember to be quiet.

“Professor McGonnagal didn’t come to you?” Mandy Brocklehurst cut in.

“What’s a squib?” Holly asked. She really needed to read more.

“What’s a squib?” Tony asked incredulously.

“Silence!” Snape barked.

Everyone immediately twisted to the face their professor.

“Miranda Praiswater.”

A tall, redheaded Hufflepuff raised her hand.

“Here,” she squeaked.

Holly tried her best to catch the Potion master’s eye, but he had apparently adopted the Dursley method of pretending she didn’t exist. Holly sighed. Potions wasn’t going to be anywhere as awesome as she’d hoped.  
  


——————

Flying seemed a little cliche. Not that she would ever admit that aloud. With great trepidation, she stood between Terry Boot and Lisa Turpin. They were the most devout quidditch fans amongst the first year Ravenclaws. Holly hoped that their enthusiasm would ease her skepticism. Why on earth would one fly hundreds of feet above the ground when there were more instantaneous means of magical transportation? Though really stepping into an enchanted fire didn’t seem any safer than flying.

“I’ll be trying out for the quidditch team,” Terry announced, puffing his chest out. “My uncle played for the Harpies for twelve years.”

“He’s your uncle?!”

“Taught me how to fly before I could run.”

“Good morning, class,” Madam Hooch greeted.

“Good morning, Madam Hooch,” they intoned.

“Now, hopefully you lot will behave better than the Slytherins and Gryffindors. We had a broken arm last class.” Several of the students glanced at one another with wide eyes. “Now, all I’d like you to do is stand beside your broom, hold your hand out, and say ‘up’. Very well. Give it a try.”

Pandemonium promptly ensued. Holly rose her brows at how quickly she’d managed to catch it. She let it drop back down and tried again, thinking that maybe it was just a bit of luck. It didn’t seem to be. The broom practically leapt into her hands a few more times. 

“Well done, Holly!” Madam Hooch said excitedly. “Your brother has the same talent. I’d say you inherited it from your father. He was an excellent chaser during his time here.”

As the instructor moved down the line, Holly felt something odd take hold of her chest. She didn’t know anything about her father, not really. Maybe flying would bring her closer to him.

——————

As September and October passed, Harry and Holly stopped meeting up on the weekends. She tried not to let it bother her, but it was difficult when Parvati came to eat with Padma every Thursday. Even Terry’s older cousin in Slytherin switched tables for lunch a couple of times a week. Holly pushed the food around her plate, trying very hard to avoid looking at where her twin was laughing with Ron only a few feet away.

She had plenty of friends. She liked all her fellow Ravenclaws, Michael and Terry especially, and loved staying up with her dorm mates. It wasn’t the same without Harry, though. Not that he seemed to mind. She didn’t begrudge him for having fun. She was having fun. She would just like to see her brother outside of the astronomy tower. Come to think of it, why didn’t the two houses have more classes together? Holly hardly knew any Gryffindors.

Nonetheless, she stuck her nose in the air and pretended it didn’t bother her. She spent most of her time talking hair and boys with Sue and Padma. The rest was dedicated to Michael Corner and Terry Boot experimenting in empty classrooms. They may or may not have spent most of their time trying to blow things up.

On the first of November, the Ravenclaw prefects pulled Holly aside before breakfast. They told her in very serious tones that Harry had battled a troll the night before. He was perfectly alright, but they thought it best that she learned it from someone of authority.

The world became very clear and very quiet. She somehow noticed everything and nothing as she stomped down the stairs. Finally, when she reached the Great Hall, she pulled out her wand and yelled the first spell that came to her mind. Harry yelped as his plate smashed itself into his face.

“You idiot!” She accused, slightly ashamed at the pitch of her voice. “You bloody, blithering idiot.”

She smacked him over the head with the book she had meant to read. One of the Weasley twins wisely back Ron as she assaulted Harry with ‘Muggle Ingredients in Potionmaking’.

“First you don’t talk to me for weeks. WEEKS. A WHOLE MONTH! And then you go fight a troll for someone else! A TROLL!”

“It wasn’t Harry’s fault-“ Hermione tried to intervene.

Holly glared at her. “You keep your bushy head out of this.”

“Holly!” Harry said.

Forks and plates began rattling against the table. Several of the older students cast shielding spells on the food before turning back to watch the drama.

“NO! You selfish prat! You don’t get to talk. Langlock!”

Her brother gagged as his tongue glued itself to the roof of his mouth.

“Miss Potter!” A stern, Scottish voice called.

Holly froze. There were quite a few things she wanted to say to McGonnagal about rewarding Harry for nearly getting himself killed on a broom and more recently, fighting with a troll. Good sense prevailed as it never did for Harry and she turned to face the professor.

“Professor McGonnagal.”

“No hexes in the Great Hall. Five points from Ravenclaw.”

“Yes Professor.”

McGonnagal eyed her with an impenetrable expression. “While I cannot condone violence, perhaps it would not be remiss if you were around to talk sense into him more frequently. Godric knows he needs it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Professor.”

“Good. Off you go.”

Holly obeyed, but not before she gave her gravy soaked brother one last withering glare.

———————

The Ravenclaw common room was never quiet. There were always some sort of experiment or spellcasting going on. Sometimes the more mundane evenings made the most racket, like Bertie Wildershin’s painting group and Thursday’s trivia tournaments.

Nothing turned the common room into chaos like the first day of holidays. Holly took one look inside and left to sulk.

She hadn’t found her Ron and Hermione. A bit strange since, maybe, since she’d always been the more extroverted twin. Harry couldn’t be called shy, but he didn’t balk from people. Unless they were being stupid about the whole scar thing, of course.

“Hello, little one.”

A regal, silvery woman floated up to Holly. She peered out the window, over the rolling snow covered grounds and the white tipped trees of the forest.

“Winter is a beautiful time of year.”

Holly hummed in agreement. She nestled deeper into her seat on the windowsill. How did one hide from a ghost?

“Why are you not playing in the snow with your friends?”

“My friends are leaving for the holidays.”

The Grey Lady was quiet for a long moment. “You are Holly Potter.”

“I’m Harry,” she mumbled half heartedly.

“Excuse me?” The ghost asked, sincerely puzzled.

Holly sighed. “It’s a joke we do. I say I’m Harry and he says he’s Holly. Makes people’s brains stop.”

The Grey Lady was so quiet that Holly thought she’d left. She nearly jumped through the window when she spoke.

“I did not have any siblings. I never knew my father. My mother was my only family. She and I were everything to one another. She was a great witch, the most intelligent of her time, and so I envied her as much as I loved her. Then, when I was young and foolish, I stole something precious of hers and ran away with it. My mother was great, though, and forgave me. She begged me to return home.”

She took a great shuddering breath.

“She sent an old acquaintance with the message. I died before I could decide to return. I regret it so much that I am damned to haunt these halls for millennia.”

The ghost gazed down at Holly remorsefully.

“Remember my story, young one. Do not let this wound fester.”

With those ominous words, the Grey Lady vaanished.

Holly sighed. The Grey Lady, who was probably Helena Ravenclaw, spoke the truth. She might envy Harry or resent him, but she couldn’t imagine a world without him. Just being isolated from him for a month set her into a funk.

Besides. She couldn’t find a Ron and Hermione sulking away in the towers of a castle.

—————

Harry and Hollyspent hours exploring the castle under their father’s invisibility cloak. Silently, they reveled in wearing the same cloak, in sneaking across the same stones as James. It was the closest they’d ever felt to either of their parents.

The photos helped too. Hagrid must have coordinated with whoever gifted the cloak because he had no reason to give Holly a gift. They flipped through it with the Weasleys, trying to piece together who was in the photos with them. Percy recognized a short man with the excellent name of Diggle and a frightening one named Moody. A woman with heaps of curls accompanied Lily in most of the pictures. No one knew her name.

James had more friends. One was tall and ragged, another short and chubby, and the last was the most handsome man she’d ever seen.

One cold night, Harry dragged her and Ron through the castle. He finally stopped in a room with a tall, beautiful mirror. Try as she might, she couldn’t decipher it’s inscription. Nor could she decipher its purpose. Harry and Ron shared what they saw with their terrible Gryffindor enthusiasm. Holly can’t find it in herself. She may have been loud and boisterous and sometimes obnoxious, but she liked her secrets. Knowledge was power, after all.

She wanted to lie. She wanted to tell them she saw generations of Potters and Evanses. Instead, she thought of the Grey Lady.

“I see me. I’m older and prettier and I’m wearing some wicked robes and I think I’ve got...Yes! It’s a book with my name on it; I’ve written a book. And you’re there Harry, and two of my friends but I can’t see which ones....” she trailed off thoughtfully.

“What do you mean? Is it Mum and Dad?”

“No. It’s friends. I think....I think this mirror shows you want you want.”

“Huh?” Ron asked, eloquent as ever.

“The inscription. It’s English, just backwards. It shows your heart’s desire.”

The three of them were quiet as they took it all in. Holly hoped her brother didn’t resent her too much for not wanting their parents as badly as he seemed to.

“Blimey,” Ron finally said. “Your heart’s desire is a book. Mental.”

——————-

Holly learned to transfigure chopsticks into knitting needles. She learned how to brew a potion that healed sunburns. She learned all the constellations in the sky. She learned when to ask for the older Ravenclaws for help and how to keep her mouth shut around people with bad style. Most of all, though, she learned that she absolutely hated Quidditch.

Flying was amazing. The freedom, the adrenaline, the way the world looked from so high up. It was almost frightening to love something so much.

When her brother’s broom bucked and slashed, though, she learned that wizarding adults were just as stupid as the muggle ones if they let their kids play something so dangerous. And because of that, she learned to hate Quidditch.

——————

Holly’s conclusions proved to be true. Harry slipped past a cerbus, played life sized wizard’s chest, drank a potentially fatal potion, and faced the Dark Lord. He’d told her a couple days before, explaining that he hadn’t brought her because he didn’t want her to get hurt. Which, of course, brought forth a painful tongue lashing from Holly.

All of those stupid, dangerous things and they gave him the House Cup. .

Terry and Michael slammed their hands down on her shoulders. She struggled against them for a good half a minute before bitter acceptance settled in. Students couldn’t do anything about stupid professors.

“This is exactly why you need to try out for Quidditch with me next year. Good outlet for that temper of yours,” Terry said solemnly.

“Absolutely not. The teachers almost let somebody kill Harry. I like my body intact, thanks.”

Andre, who had mysteriously appeared at the mention of Quidditch, leaned over to Padma to join in. “Potter, you try out, and Flitwick and I will personally ensure that no unrelated injury befalls you on the pitch.”

She narrowed her eyes. “And you get someone to teach me the no chip nail varnish charm.”

“Deal.”

Terry cheered as they shook hands.

Holly glanced back over to the Gryffindor table. Her brother was not chatting with his housemates. He was not making plans for the next year. He simply smiled at Ron and Hermione with eyes too old for any first year.

No one noticed the dishes rattle.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short, but I wanted to hurry up and get to her second year!

Regulus slipped into the hospital wing before the door could close behind an exiting Hufflepuff. He gently, carefully, pressed it into the frame. He lingered until he was sure no one had heard before making his way to the furthest corner. He hadn’t gone to see Holly since that dreadful visit to Dumbledore’s office. Snape had, he knew, and so had all of James’ friends. Regulus couldn’t bring himself to do it. Something felt wrong about going to stare at a sleeping girl. Purebloods might very well be bigots, but at least they were well mannered bigots.

Voices drifted from beyond the white curtains. James Potter was rambling about the latest Quidditch match, his tone growing more desperate with each word. Regulus wanted to roll his eyes. James Potter probably didn’t know that the girl despised Quidditch, but there had to be something else he could talk about.

“And this is my friend, Peter Pettigrew,” James was saying.

Regulus froze. The two silhouettes startled at whatever the girl did.

“Oh! Hello!” James cried. “I brought my friend Peter along. We’ve been friends since our first trip on the Express.”

“Hello Peter,” a witch crooned. “I’m very glad to meet you.”

Regulus didn’t stop to think. He jerked the bed curtain open and stepped inside. James Potter stood at the foot of the hospital bed, Peter Pettigrew fidgeting at his side. He hadn’t yet taken on the rodent like features from the Pensieve. He would never be attractive. He might only ever be called handsome by somebody that might love him, but he didn’t have the clawed nails or the strange nose or the long front teeth. Interesting. So this chubby, red cheeked shit stain would be the reason Sirius lived off rats. It would be so very easy to end it before it began. The Blacks and the goblins have had a profitable relationship for centuries; Gringotts dragons need to eat, after all.

Peter Pettigrew paled and shuffled to hide behind James. As hilarious as it was, it jerked Regulus out of his reverie.

“My name is Regulus Black,” he announced. He inclined his head to James, then to the girl on the bed. “I’ve been asked to escort Miss Potter on a walk.”

“I can do it,” James said immediately.

“I think you’ve misunderstood. Dumbledore asked me. I’m meant to check if the curse has had any lasting effects.”

James shifted on the balls of feet. “Well. Alright then. Come on, Peter. Holly, we’ll see you some other time.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” she said.

They left, sparing Regulus one last suspicious glare. When they were gone, he turned to Holly. Her resemblance to James was startling after having seen them together. The wild black Potter hair had been contained in a tight braid wrapped around her crown. It accentuated her long face and nose, made her neck look elegant in its curve. Her lips weren’t full, but they were shapely and expressive. It was her eyes, though, that made his stomach squirm. They were a bright vivid green and held a sharp, darkened intelligence. He could lose himself in those eyes, in the secrets they held.

“You’re going to kill Peter Pettigrew,” he said by way of greeting.

She tilted her head. “It happened far too quick the first time.”

He stared at her some more, not sure of what to say. There were a thousand things he wanted to ask, but each one seemed more inconsequential than the other. What did one ask a girl from the future?

“Are you really here to take me on a walk?” She asked.

Regulus blinked. He hadn’t thought to, but it was lovely outside.

“I can be,” he allowed. “We’ll have to change your appearance, of course. I excel at transfiguration, but if you’re uncomfortable....Have they given back your wand?”

Her slight smile dropped. “No. They haven’t. I don’t think they will until you’ve seen everything. How far along are you?”

“First year.”

“Merlin! I’ll never get it back!” She flopped back on her bed and sighed dramatically. “Go on then, do your worst.”

Regulus cleared his throat. “If you wouldn’t mind undoing your braid, I’ll get started immediately.”

“Ah! Sorry, I forgot.” She sat back up and began unpinning and untwisting her heaps of hair. Regulus felt heat rise in his cheeks. He’d never seen anyone other than his cousins style their hair. It simply wasn’t done. It felt rather like intruding on a witch getting dressed. “Transfiguration was never my forte. I do best in magics that allow creativity and rule-bending. Potions was my favorite, though I truly excelled at charms. There you go. I like being blonde if you can manage that.”

Regulus wondered why she knew she liked being blonde, but didn’t ask. It might bring up something she’d rather forget and he’d probably see it anyway. He concentrated on her hair, on its texture and color and composition, thought very hard of Cissy and Lucius, and murmured a spell. It began at the roots. Silver flashed, then poured down the strands like water. Her hair lightened and straightened itself until it fell nearly to her hips in silky, platinum strands.

“Wow, that’s amazing!” She gushed, running her hand over the new length. “It took me three potions and the better part of two months to get it to look like this.”

“Yours was probably permanent. This will wear off some time in the night.”

“Still, it’s impressive spellwork. Have you ever considered a career in cosmetology?”

Regulus couldn’t hold back his snort. “No, I can’t say I have. Hold still while I do your nose.”

He put a bump in the bridge of her nose, something he found very aristocratic and elegant, then enlarged her lips a tad bit. He stepped back to examine her and nearly cursed.

“What is it?” She demanded, hands flying up to her nose.

“Nothing. It’s...well...I’ve made you noticeable, when I should have made you plain.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you saying you made me pretty? Does that mean I wasn’t pretty before?”

“Darling,” Regulus drawled, “Witches have been trying to manipulate me since I was nine. You’ll have to do better than that.”

He helped her out of the bed, careful not to touch anywhere other than her elbows and hands. He very pointedly did not look at where her dress hitched up her thighs. It was all very uncomfortable. This should be her father or her brother, but really, James Potter could be a fumbling idiot for all his athleticism and Sirius was, well, Sirius.

Regulus frowned as he led her to the nearest courtyard. The Sirius from the pensieve was a very different wizard from the Sirius he knew. He had always been courageous and confident, of course, but it was those very characteristics that made him incapable. He was ruled by his heart. For all his cleverness, he never stopped to think. That Sirius was something else altogether. He dueled the Dark Lord, rescued his (probably) goddaughter, and cleared her wand within quick succession. Apparently, Future Sirius gained the ability to think and act simultaneously. Merlin save them all. 

“It is beautiful today. Thank you.”

Regulus pulled himself out of his thoughts. “You’re welcome.”

“Walk with me. That bed is killing me.”

They walked in amiable silence for a long while, but Holly’s extroversion soon reared it’s curious head.

“Are you an animagus?” She asked.

He raised a brow. “No.”

“Why not? I would be if I were good enough to pull it off.”

“It didn’t seem like it would be worth the trouble.”

“I think it depends on your form. A small snake would be incredibly useful, but something like a Burmese python wouldn’t be good for anything other than intimidation. Can you still cast a patronus?”

Regulus glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She was looking up at the sky, trusting him to lead her around and around the square. “Can you?”

“Not anymore,” she answered honestly. “I’ve killed too many people.”

“I haven’t killed anyone,” he murmured. And yet I’ve never been able to cast one, went unsaid.

“Mine was a hyena before.”

“A what?”

“It’s an African canine with this cackle-“

“I know what a hyena is! It’s just unexpected. A hyena? Who has a hyena for a patronus?”

“You know, I think Narcissa Malfoy’s son said the exact same thing with that exact same tone.”

Regulus smiled, thinking of the pompous little blonde he’d caught glimpses of. “He’s quite adorable, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” she said. “I always thought he looked like some sort of fae. Absolute arsehole, though, even if he is adorable and clever.”

Regulus hummed noncommittally. It wasn’t for him to say, but...

“Cissy has had trouble conceiving. It was a bit of a relief to learn his name.”

“I assumed,” she confessed. “I always respected Narcissa. Harry never understood that; he was too much of a hero. I could respect her, though. Towards the end, I didn’t care if it meant this whole damn island burnt to the ground if it meant my family was safe.”

Regulus looked at her, at her shoulders thrown back and her eyes burning with hatred, and he wondered if perhaps he could make himself one of those people she wanted safe. He obviously hadn’t done a good job of it himself.


	7. Chapter 7

**2nd Year**

The phone rang in the kitchen of Number Four Privet Drive. The twins slaving away under the window didn’t pay it any attention. Holly reckoned she could count the number of times she’d used the phone on one hand and most of those were probably just to order food delivery. Instead, Harry and Holly Potter communicated by owls. Out of all the magic in the world, wizards still used messenger birds or stuck their heads in a fire.

Bet there’s a thousand weeding spells, Holly thought sourly. Wonder if Aunt Petunia would hate magic so much if it gave her the best landscaping.

“HOLLY”

Holly sat back in the dirt, resting her hands on her knees. She had never enjoyed manual labor. It was one of the reasons she was apprehensive about promising to try out for the quidditch team. Any type of sport, magical or no, involved a lot of manual labor.

“Yes, Aunt Petunia?”

“Don’t give me that attitude. One of your freak friends is on the phone.”

Harry glanced over with his brows raised.

“Alright. Thanks.”

She toed her shoes off at the door (she’d be the one cleaning the dirt up) and used a dish towel to pick the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Holly! Mate, are you alright? You haven’t answered any of our owls.”

“Hey Michael. I haven’t had any owls.”

“What?! We’ve all sent you one, Terry and Padma and me.”

“Neither me nor Harry have got anything.”

“Even Harry? That’s odd. Are you alright?”

Holly shrugged, though he couldn’t see it. “Not bad, I suppose. How’s your summer been?”

“Okay. I’ve been flying almost every day. I thought maybe you could bring Harry and Ron over for a pick up game.”

“You do realize I don’t live with the Weasleys? Can you imagine living with those twins?”

They were both silent as they contemplated the horror.

“Well Anthony, Terry and I are having a joint birthday party on the twelfth. Do you think they’d want to come with you?”

“Isn’t Terry’s birthday in October?”

“That doesn’t matter. Will you come?”

“Of course, but Michael, I’m not going to be the only girl am I? As much as I love flying I don’t want to be stuck with a bunch of boys all day.”

“Lisa and the Patils said they’d come if you do.”

“I’d like to come but- wait! The twelfth, you said?”

“Yeah.”

“Hang on.” She dropped the phone on the counter.

“Aunt Petunia!” She called, turning around only to jump out of her skin. Her aunt had been listening the entire time. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t realize you were there. Uncle Vernon’s dinner party is three Fridays from now, right?”

Petunia pursed her lips and nodded.

“My hous- my friend invited me and Harry to a birthday party that day. If we go, we’d be out of the way.”

She sniffed. “I suppose, but we won’t be driving you. And you can’t return until nine.”

“Okay. I’ll see if his mum can pick us up.”

Holly turned around and picked up the phone. “My aunt said yes. My uncle’s got a dinner party for work and we’d be out of the way, but we can’t come back till nine and we’d need a ride.”

“I’ll work something out with Mum. She’s muggleborn. She’ll know what to do.”

“Hey, since the owls are being weird you might want to work out things with the Weasleys for us.”

“Alright. I’ll ring you when it’s sorted.”

“Thanks. Can’t wait to see you!”

With that, Holly hung up to share the good news with her brother.

Their joy was short lived. It might have all been okay if the phone hadn’t stopped working. The Dursleys shot them suspicious glances, but it was a common enough problem. Except that when the technician couldn’t find the problem and gave them a newer model, it still wouldn’t work. They switched phone companies; it still wouldn’t work.

Uncle Vernon lost it. It was interfering with his business, he said, and he wouldn’t have that in his house. His rage was impressive; no human should be able to turn such a purple shade. It might have been funny in another situation. As it was, the twins were locked in their bedroom, fed through a cat flap, and given two bathroom breaks a day.

On Thursday the eleventh, the twins were sitting on their bed, looking out through the bars on their window- it was their only form of entertainment besides counting the flowers in the wallpaper; Holly had reached three hundred and two before she lost count- when suddenly, two adults appeared out of thin air. One was a tall man with red hair and the other a brunette witch.

“Is that-“

“I think so.”

“We’re done for.”

Holly nodded in agreement.

Outside, the two adults looked around curiously, then suddenly froze when they noticed the barred window. Holly rolled away before they could see her. Harry followed quickly. Neither of them knew why they did. Embarrassment, perhaps, a survival instinct against Uncle Vernon, or experience from watching their aunt spy so much.

It might have been watching their Aunt watch the neighbor’s, because they scurried across the room to press their ears against the door.

Uncle Vernon opened the door and slammed it shut in quick succession. It opened, closed, and opened again, this time with a crash. Aunt Petunia shrieked. Dudley’s heavy footsteps barreled up the stairs soon after.

“Bars! BARS!” A woman was saying. Harry’s brows raised in surprise; he must not have known that Michael’s mum was a yank.

“Cassidy, perhaps-“

“The fuck, Arthur? They’ve got bars on the window. What the hell is going on?”

“Believe me when I say that had we known...”

“Where even are they?!”

There was another shriek from Aunt Petunia and then more footsteps on the stairs. Harry and Holly lunged back. They looked around their room desperately. There was the double bed pressed into the corner and a mess of dirty clothes and sheets strewn across the floor. The twins did so much cleaning around the house they left their own room in a state of rebellious disarray. Holly hadn’t even bothered to hide the books she’d managed to sneak in.

Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Corner paused outside the door. It was quiet for a long time. So long, in fact, that the twins began having a silent argument.

‘You’re the outgoing one,’ Harry gestured.

‘But you’re the golden boy,’ Holly’s scowl said.

Their argument was for naught. The door slammed open against the wall. Mr. Weasley and Mrs.Corner stood tall and fuming in the dark hallway.

“Er...” Harry said.

“Should we pack?” Holly translated.

Mrs. Corner shook her head distractedly. “No. We’ll meet you outside. You could use some fresh air, it seems.”

“Uh...” Harry said.

“Our trunks are locked in the cupboard. If you could unlock them, we’ll bring them out.”

“That’s quite alright,” Mr. Weasley said kindly. “We’ll manage on our own, I’m sure.”

“Alright, then,” Holly said.

She grabbed her brother’s hand and dragged him down the stairs. Harry stepped over their prone uncle, but Holly made sure to sink her foot down low in his fat belly.

——————

Holly liked the Burrow. It was magical and cozy and the food was great, but it was very lonely. Harry and Ron were best mates and Ginny was too shy to say anything. Holly did her a favor and only came back to their shared room when it was time to go to bed. She spent most of her time reading, and when she read through all the books she bothered to understand, she rudely went exploring through the house. She was looking at a photograph full of ginger toddler’s when she heard the first explosion. Then a curse.

Holly creeped up the stairs and pressed her ear to the door. To her surprise, it creaked open. The dreaded Weasley twins were gathered around a cauldron. Fluorescent green sludge caked the wall, the table, and the floor. Holly couldn’t help herself.

“Are you experimenting?”

The twins glanced at one another. She didn’t pay them any mind. She only closed the door and crept closer to examine their workstation.

“Well, I can tell you right now it was the toad slime that made it blow. Terry, Michael, and I figured it out has a mostly harmless detonative property that Snape doesn’t want any one but the NEWT students to know.”

The twins shared another look.

“We’ve seen you sulking around,” one said.

“All bored and morose.”

“I reckon it’s our duty as hosts to rectify that.”

“Come closer, Girl Potter. We’ll cheer you right up.”

It was a beautiful friendship that lasted three days and a missing eyebrow each. Molly Weasley dragged her into the vegetable garden that disastrous afternoon.

“Hello, dear. We haven’t had much time to chat, have we?” She asked, her hands on her hips. Her eye was twitching like Uncle Vernon’s did sometimes. “I’ve noticed you’ve seemed a bit sad.”

“I wouldn’t say I was sad,” she said. She couldn’t quite bring herself to meet Mrs. Weasley’s twitching eye. “It just that Harry and Ron are best mates, and he knows all of you from Gryffindor, but I think it’s alright now. I’ve been getting on well with Fred and George.”

“Yes, that’s what I’m worried about. Would you be more comfortable if I invited Hermione to stay with us?”

“Granger? Oh god no. Please, Mrs. Weasley, I’ll stay away from Fred and George. I’ll sleep out here with gnomes. Just please, no.”

“It’s Molly, dear,” Mrs Weasley corrected absently. She eyed Holly up and down, from her pink shirt, to her polka dotted pants, down to her flashing rainbow shoes. The enchantment was wearing off. She’d have to get another pair before Hogwarts started. Molly suddenly nodded.

“Come with me. I’ve got someone I think you’ll like to meet.”

She rushed through the house, lit up the Floo, and chatted to a head in the fireplace. Harry and Holly had learned about the Floo system at Michael’s party, but no one had told them it could be used like a phone. Soon, the head disappeared, the flames rose, and a tiny blonde thing stepped through. She looked like an eldritch creature, what with being all pale hair and eyes. It was the clothes that gave her mortality away. The dress and shirt were two contrasting prints, but in complimentary colors.

“I like your strawberry dress,” Holly said.

“I like your flashing shoes,” the girl said dreamily.

“I’m Holly Potter. You want to come try on my clothes?”

“That sounds very fun. I’m Luna Lovegood, by the way.”

After that, Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t have been able to tear the two apart no matter how many eyebrows went missing.

—————————

Holly approached the Potions Master with her head held high. Some things allowed one to rise above fear. Or perhaps spending a summer with Harry had made her recklessly brave. Either way, she respected Snape and he was a potion’s Master after all. Just not a very kind one. She lingered behind the small cluster of students that asked succinct questions. Snape was not Flitwick. He didn’t like to carry a conversation along with anyone, especially not young students.

The Hufflepuff boy that had managed to turn his antidote pink lumbered off with a frown. Snape finally turned to his last interrogator.

“Miss Potter, did you have a question about today’s lesson?” He asked. He generally didn’t mind Ravenclaws after they learned to keep their insights and curiosities short. Potters were another thing altogether. The smallest curl of his lip appeared as he eyed the frizzy hair escaping her braids.

“No, Professor. It’s about something else. It’s about the Dreamless Sleep potion.”

Snape let his sneer show. “Is the Girl Who Lived having nightmares?”

A hot, blinding fury electrified her heart into overdrive. She bit down on her tongue until her eyes burned. This was more important than her pride.

“My roommate has nightmares about her uncle,” Holly said flatly.

Snape flinched. He physically recoiled. The two of them avoided one another’s gaze long enough for the awkwardness to become tangible.

“Madam Pomfrey-“

“Please sir, Isn’t there something like a simple Dreamless Sleep? Something-“

“No,” he said, but for once, it wasn’t unkind. He sighed, lowering himself onto the desk, his long legs crossed at the ankle. She often forgot just how tall her Professor was. “No. The human brain is a complex organ. Altering it in any way, magical or otherwise, is an extremely intricate process. The consequences are too unpredictable.”

He paused for a moment, thin lips pressed together. “A calming draught or sleeping solution may help your friend when an episode occurs. You already know how to brew the calming draught. Sleeping solutions are not covered until fourth year, but I believe you show the aptitude to attempt it. Supervised.”

“Thank you, Professor!”

Holly struggled not to squeal or bounce on her heels. Admittedly, the promise of brewing potions on her own time was more exciting than helping Sue Li, but he didn’t need to know that. Something about the way he cocked a brow made her think he knew anyway.

“Sixth and seventh years supervise extracurricular potion brewing in the evenings. Misters Malfoy and Zabini usually attend before dinner on Tuesday and Thursday.”

It could have been an invitation or a warning. She didn’t stay around to ask. She thanked him and hurried on to charms. Snape would probably change his mind just to see the look on her face if she lingered too long.

“Ms. Potter,” he called.

She paused at the door.

“Don’t let me catch you in those horrid shoes again.”

She glanced down at her new shoes. She knew they weren’t uniform, but she woke up so very happy to be back at Hogwarts, so ecstatic to have Luna in Ravenclaw, and couldn’t bring herself to wear her boring black loafers. Instead, she’d slipped on her Sassy Sequin Sneakers (Changes color with your mood! Charms available up to nine months.) Harry had said they were stupid, but they were obviously smart enough to turn a bright green with her sudden surge of excitement.

“Alright, Professor,” she lied. She was going to wear them until he or McGonnagal took points.

————————

Holly Potter slammed her bag down next to Blaise Zabini. He was a very cute boy in Slytherin that had a penchant for rolling his eyes when Holly wanted to roll hers. She knew she’d get along with him. It was the other boy she was worried about.

Malfoy gaped at her across the table.

“What are you doing here, Potter?!” He demanded.

“Snape gave me permission. Told me if I could brew a sleeping solution I’d earned my place.”

She unfolded the recipe she’d copied from a textbook and began reading it carefully.

“But why are you here?”

She sighed and looked up again. “Well, Zabini always rolls his eyes when I want to, so I think we’ll get along fine. I’ve never really met you, so I thought I could give it a go.”

He stared at her. “Go sit with this Ravenclaws!”

“They’re sixth years! Snape would accuse me of cheating.”

“Then sit with the Hufflepuffs! They’re fourth years!”

“Yeah, but I have all my classes with Hufflepuffs. They get exhausting after a while.”

Draco paused, frowning.

“She’s not wrong,” Zabini said.

“And I refuse to hear anything about my brother while we’re in here. I hear enough about him every other day of my life.”

Draco’s frown darkened into a scowl.

“Will you marry me?” Zabini asked, his eerily symmetrical face alight with glee.

“No. Your face is too perfect. I’d get bored of looking at it every day.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. Malfoy, however, slumped in his seat and pouted.

“I wasn’t going to say anything about your stupid brother.”

“That’s fine, then. Want to try this with me?”

“Yes, we would,” Zabini said, giving Draco a look she couldn’t decipher.

“Fine,” Malfoy groused. He watched her organize the ingredients and began preparing them.

“You’re doing that wrong. You need to crush it to get more juice.”

———————

“Potter! Quidditch tryouts are next week!”

“Yeah, not happening.”

“What?! WHY?!”

“Snape gave me access to the potions labs.”

“Please, Potter! Cho’s good, but you were born to fly a broom!”

“Not during potions lab, I wasn’t!”

—————-

Malfoy lasted nearly a month without bringing up Harry. The three of them were trying to brew a poison Blaise had “stumbled upon” in his mother’s house. It was supposed to make one’s teeth fall out, then hemorrhage through the mouth. Holly never had been queasy.

“Look, Holly, I know you said not to bring up Potter-“ Draco began.

“Oh, here we go,” she sighed.

“No, Holly, it’s weird,” Zabini said.

If Zabini thought it warranted a conversation, then she probably did too. They were frighteningly similar. They’d probably argue nonstop if they did anything other than brew together.

“What’s he done now?”

“He’s been staying in the girl’s loo.”

“Pardon?”

Holly Potter ambushed her brother at breakfast. Harry, Hermione, and Ron‘s heads were gathered over a plate of bacon. Holly plopped down beside Weasley and stole a piece. They all jumped.

“Hello, brother,” Holly chirped as she ladled porridge into her bowl.

Harry frowned. “Err...morning Holly. Look, we’re a little busy-“

“Planning your next excursion to the girl’s toilets?” She asked airly.

All three of their faces turned an extraordinary grey color.

“Yes, I know all about that. Everyone knows all about it. Everyone at Hogwarts knows everything about you three, we common folk just choose to ignore it. Guilty by association and all that.” She sprinkled cinnamon onto her oatmeal. “However, it’s rather difficult to ignore when people ask why my brother and his friends are hanging out in a girl’s toilet.”

Harry and Ron stared at Hermione. She stared back, obviously at a loss. Holly paid them no mind. She ate her breakfast calmly as she waited for Harry to crack. Sure enough, he soon cleared his throat.

“We’re trying to find the Heir to Slytherin,” he said.

She frowned. “Why?”

“Why?!” Ron blurted. “Why don’t we won’t to find the person attacking people?!”

“What can we do that Dumbledore couldn’t? Or Flitwick? Or McGonnnagal?”

Hermione pursed her lips in thought. She was probably the only sensible one at the table besides the eldest Weasley and the stick up his arse. She’d only seen him a few times at dinnerover the summer.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Look, we think it’s Draco Malfoy. We’ve-“

“It’s not. We’ve checked,” Holly interrupted.

“Checked?” Harry frowned.

“Yes. We’ve got genealogy charts charmed on a board in the common room. Slytherin doesn’t have any living heirs, none listed in any of the records we’ve found anyway. Oh! I forgot to tell you. We’re descended from Gryffindor!”

“What?! From Gryffindor?” Harry blurted, just as Hermione cried, “But I’ve checked the library dozens of times!”.

“Ravenclaw,” Holly explained with a shrug.

“Is that what you lot do for fun?” Ron asked incredulously. “Draw family trees in the common room?”

“Honestly, Ron!” Hermione said. The bowls clattered as slamming her hand down on the table. “There’s more than drawing trees! There’s a lot of research and critical thinking involved-“

“But why?!” Ron asked, lips pulled down in disgust.

“It’s interesting. Never mind that.” Holly waved her spoon dismissively. “What does this have to do with the girl’s bathroom?”

“We’re....” Harry shared a cautious look with his friends. “We’re brewing Polyjuice potion.”

“NO!” Holly screamed.

The Gryffindors glanced around nervously.

“Yes,” Hermione whispered. “Myrtle’s bathroom is the safest place for it.”

“Brilliant, Hermione!” Holly exclaimed.

Hermione beamed.

“When can I see?”

Harry’s jaw dropped.

“What?!” He cried.

“You can’t tell me you’re brewing an incredibly advanced potion and keep me from it! Look, I don’t even want to go with you when you change. I just want to see the potion work. How did you get the recipe, anyway? Dad’s cloak?”

Harry nodded, almost sheepishly.

“What’s that look for? What do you think I’m going to use it for? I’ll have read every book in the Restricted Section by third year.”

Ron Weasley looked like he might throw up.

“Just let me see.”

“Alright,” Harry conceded. “But you’re not going. It’s too dangerous.”

“Thanks a lot mate,” Ron grumbled.

———

Professor Binns droned on and on. The students were either sleeping, socializing, or studying. Most of the Ravenclaws were scowling. Everyone at Hogwarts knew not to bring up Binns to a Ravenclaw. The ranting and raving was almost worst than one of the ghost’s lectures.

Holly couldn’t be bothered to scowl. She couldn’t even be bothered to take usual nap. Instead, she poured over an ancient tome that Hermione Granger had been so eager to get rid of. Holly didn’t understand why. It was absolutely fascinating. She especially liked the potions that blew stuff up like magical grenades.

“What are you reading?”

Willow jumped. A tall boy with messy brown hair peered over her shoulder. His hooded blue eyes were wide with shock at a detailed illustration of the skin melting potion’s effects. She slammed the book shut from the back cover to hide the title.

“Nothing,” she lied.

“Oh, come off it!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Willow didn’t mind Slytherins. In fact, she preferred the classes she shared with the Snakes. She just didn’t trust them. Brewing with Blaise and Draco taught her more than potions.

The boy pursed his lips. “I was almost in Ravenclaw, you know. I just want to read it.”

She squinted at him thoughtfully. He hung around Blaise a lot and Blaise was alright. He wouldn’t tell on her any more than Fred or George would.

“Fine,” she decided. “But don’t tell anyone. Especially Malfoy. He’s clever but he can’t keep his mouth shut.

The boy smirked as he held out his hand. “Theodore Nott.”

“Holly Potter. Look at this! It blows stuff up!”

“Really? Wicked!”

——————

Holly scowled over the books. The spells inside ‘Advanced Enchanments” were a hell of a lot more complicated than second and even third year charms class. It didn’t help that she had to hide from Filch in a cramped spiral stairwell. She’d already had to hex one couple away because the smacking and slurping noises broke her concentration.

She tapped her wand on an illustration of a flobberworm and whispered “effingo pagina” while she traced a circle on the wall. Only the top half-or perhaps the bottom, she wasn’t sure- copies itself to the wall. At least half a dozen flobberworm bits littered the stairwell.

Sighing, Holly bent back over the textbook, looking for an explanation on how to ensure the entire drawing projected itself. Not just the ass end.

“You hear that Fred?”

Holly yelped, scrambled up, and tripped over the invisibility cloak. She yanked the hood back up, but her foot caught on the textbook. A strong hand caught her just inches from eating stone while another hand ripped the cloak away.

“Look George! We’ve caught a Potter!”

“How much do you think the monster will take her for?”

“But her brother controls the monster.”

“Right. He won’t take anything for her. I wouldn’t take anything for you.”

“Oi!”

“Oh shut up,” Holly grumbled.

She summoned the book that had fallen, but one of the twins caught it before she could stow it away.

“I’m not trying to hide it, stupid,” she said, rolling her eyes. “We need to move. This stairwell isn’t as hidden as I thought it was.”

Fred tutted. “Oh, young one, how much you have to learn.”

“There are much better places to...” George trailed off as he squinted at the decapitated-or perhaps castrated- flobberworms. “What’s that supposed to be anyway?”

Something clattered on the floor below. All three of them froze until it was clear that Filch wasn’t going to appear.

“This way,” Fred whispered.

Holly grabbed the other book and crept after him. The twins led her up the stairs, down a hallway, cut through two corridors she’d never seen, and then through a tapestry and down a slope that bottomed out into a dead end. She did her best to bully George all the while. Harry would kill her, Slytherin’s monster or no, if she didn’t get the cloak back. They elbowed and jabbed one another silently as Fred cast several wards.

“Can’t ickle Pottikins reach?” George teased, holding the silvery fabric high above her head.

“Give it back! It was my father’s!” She snapped.

He paused at that.

“Give it or I’ll tell Mrs. Weas-“

“Now, now. No need to be nasty,” Fred interrupted.

George let her have the cloak. “Was it really your dad’s?”

“Yeah. Harry got it with a note last Christmas. We’ve been sharing it ever since.”

The Weasleys shared a silent conversation, complete with furrowed brows and frowns. Holly suddenly ached for her own twin.

“Invisibility cloaks don’t last that long,” George finally said.

Holly shrugged. “This one does I guess.”

“A magic magical invisibility cloak,” Fred mused.

“And she uses it to sit in stairwells.”

“Graffiti,” Fred scoffed.

“Honestly, it makes us ashamed to call you our friend.”

“I wasn’t graffitiing,” she sighed. “I was practicing. The spells are tricky and I wanted to get the hang of it before I really did it. I thought something simple like a flobberworm would be good practice.”

“Commendable,” George noted.

“What’s the spell?” Fred asked.

“Effingo pagina.”

“Tricky for a second year,” Fred said.

“I’m impressed you got the flobberworm’s flobber,” George said.

“Eugh. Please don’t say that again. It makes me think of that couple I had to scare off,” Holly said with a shudder.

The twins chuckled.

“No one will find us here,” Fred assured her.

“We think there’s a secret room nearby.”

“Why else have a dead end tunnel on the fourth floor?”

“Since when has Hogwarts made sense?” Holly pointed out.

“True,” Fred allowed.

“What’s this all about anyway?” George asked.

“Well...”

Five days later, students rushed to the second floor hall. Filch and Flitwick, the only two faculty to arrive, were too preoccupied to send them off. Spit sprayed from the caretaker as hescreamed about chains and a boy. The professor did a good job of pretending to care. In fact, he seemed to be struggling to hold back a smile, particularly when one of his students appeared on her way to breakfast.

She stood beside a boy who could be no one other than her twin. They peered up at the new artwork on the wall curiously.

Under the familiar threatening message, an odd piece of graffiti had appeared overnight: a family tree. At the very bottom, illustrations of Harry and Holly Potter flicked bogeys at one another. Above them, a blazing scarlet line traced their heritage all the way back to Godric Gryffindor. Every ancestor had an unflattering portrait next to their name. Some made obscene hand gestures, others were fighting, and even more were picking their nose and digging in their ears. 

Harry and Holly grinned as her crude figure tried to stick a bogey in his ears. 

“How?” He asked, laughing. Harry was always so serious. It was easy to forget he was only twelve years old.

“Fred and George helped,” she confided. “Also, a couple of people that can draw.”

Holly decided it was best not to mention that one of those people happened to be Draco Malfoy. As annoying as the git was, he was talented. It also helped that he was incredibly eager to help mock the Potter lineage.

“How long do you think it will take Flitwick to figure it out?” Harry asked.

“He already did,” she said, far darker than she’d ever done before. Her face was set into a determined scowl, an expression she usually reserved for the Dursley’s. “He took a name off of it already. Our grandparents adopted someone, Harry. We might have an uncle.”

“What? Who?”

”He’s called Sirius Black. I didn’t think much of it, thought he might have died young or something.”

“But why would Flitwick take his name off?” Harry asked slowly.

“Exactly.”

“I’ll get Hermione on it.”

“Don’t worry about it. I know enough Slytherins to save her a day in the library.”

Harry peered at her out of the corner of his eye. “And you would believe them?”

“Oh, Harry,” she said, wrapping one arm around his shoulders. “If there’s anything a Slytherin takes seriously, it’s their family tree.”

————-

Holly and Theo lounged against a tree. Every once in a while, they’d have to pull Luna back from chasing something into the Forest. She’d initially been wary of introducing her two friends, but Theo didn’t seem to mind Luna’s airy ramblings. If anything, he scrutinized them very seriously. He later confided that he thinks she might be a seer.

Holly didn’t know. She didn’t really care. She just knew that her classmates were dropping like flies and her brother was stupid enough to think he could stop it.

“Theo. Do you know who Sirius Black is?”

Theo did a double take, his fringe swinging in his eyes. “What?! Of course I do. How do you not?”

“I was raised by muggles, remember?”

“Yeah, but...Holly, did they never really tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Merlin’s beard! Luna! I’ll need your help.”

What followed was long conversation that ended in an even longer flying session. Harry had a godfather that had killed her parents, and she had a godfather who couldn’t even be bothered to write. Adults were arseholes. Well, all of them except Flitwick maybe.

She’d tell Harry over the summer, she decided as she circled higher and higher up the astronomy tower. He’d tell too many people and she had a test she wanted to do.

She landed on the roof and stood, looking out over the grounds. They all looked like ants so high up. Little ants in their dirty mazes and their stupid adults. She’d never be an ant, she swore. She would never let another stupid adult tell her to stay in the maze.

“POTTER!” Someone called. She looked down to see McGonnagal and Sinatra in a row of telescopes, all pale faces and tight lips. “POTTER!YOU GET DOWN THIS INSTANT.”

Holly grinned. “If you say so!”

“HOLLY POTTER, DON’T YOU DARE!”

Holly swung a leg over her broom, a sleek Nimbus 2001 worth every knut.

Sinister raised her her wand, while McGonnagal kept shrieking about Potter and Black and how she thought she’d escaped it with Harry because even Harry wasn’t as foolish as to-

Holly leapt off the roof just as pale jet of let flashed by.

She lost twenty points and got two detentions, but that was alright. Her heart was still beating fast and she couldn’t quite catch her breath, and she knew, just knew, that she wasn’t an ant.

—————

Dumbledore came instead of a prefect. She glanced around his office curiously as he spoke. There were so many books and instruments lying around. She wondered what sort of wards he had on his office. He told her about the Chamber and a basilisk and a diary and a boy named Tom Riddle. At the end, he studied her over his steepled fingers and asked if she was angry.

“Why? It’s not your fault this time,” she said.

He flinched, the twinkle in his eye fading out. She found she didn’t care for him very much. He left them to the Dursley’s, he put a dangerous artifact in his school. Snape wouldn’t be like this. He wouldn’t do these awful things and then try to be friends with her. He would tell her that she could make him stop when she could beat him in a duel and ‘For heaven’s sake, stop wearing such garish clothes!’.

“Headmaster,” she began, taking care not to make eye contact like Theo said, “Who is Sirius Black? I found him on the family tree when I defaced school property. Which, I suppose I should apologize for.”

She looked up in time to see his beard twitch.

“You remind me of your father, Holly. Much more than your brother even. He was a very brash, very gregarious man. He once flew off the astronomy tower in his third year.” Dumbledore smiled happily at first, but it soon faded into something sad. “There was another wizard, Sirius Black, that you remind me of too. He was also bold, charismatic, and intelligent. They were prodigies in Transfiguration very much in the way you are in Potions. They soon became as close as brothers. Your grandparents even adopted him, as you saw. You see, he was born into a family notorious for its love of the Dark Arts. Eventually, unfortunately, his past caught up with him and he joined Lord Voldemort.”

Holly frowned. So no mention of his betrayal or the man named Remus Lupin. Had he gone to Voldemort as well? Was that why he wanted nothing to do with her?

“Holly?” Dumbledore prompted.

“Sorry, Headmaster. I just...I just hoped there might someone other than the Dursley’s.”

“I see. Holly, may be difficult but-“

“That’s an interesting model. Is it in real time?”

Dumbledore stared at her as she leapt out of her chair and walked to the silver arrangement of planets. After what seemed an eternity, he came to stand beside her.

“Yes. It is in real time. This over here, however, is a Thingamabob, created by myself and Nicholas Flamel a very long time ago. Would you like to see how it works instead?”

“Yes. I think I might.”

——————

When Holly had lost the twenty points from her stunt on the Astronomy Tower, her housemates had been outraged. They didn’t stop complaining until she pointed out that Harry would earn hundreds of points doing something stupid at the end of the year. Gryffindor would win every year until he graduated.   
‘I’ll bet my broom on it,’ she’d said, tapping it on the navy carpet.   
She was right, of course. Harry’s victory over the basilisk did in fact turn all the banners red and gold. The older Ravenclaws all looked from the embroidered lions to Holly thoughtfully.   
A half hour later, Rena, their fifth year prefect, subtly called for attention where all of the seventh years and prefects were huddled together at the end of the table.   
“We have concurred that Holly is correct,” she said decisively. “The points system is indeed rigged. Therefore, Ravenclaw House will no longer participate in the points system until it once more just and true.”

Behind her, a seventh year named Shafiq grinned. “Have at it, kids. I envy you all.”

Everyone in attendance was quite confused when the Ravenclaw table exploded into cheers.

——————

Luna rode home with Ginny, so Holly pushed her way through the train until she found Theo. He was sharing a compartment with Blaise Zabini, Daphne Greengrass, and surprisingly, Zacharias Smith. Everyone except Theo blanched and stood when she entered.   
  
“It’s alright,” Theo said. “She isn’t a Gryffindor.”

Zabini snorted. “Worse, she’s a Ravenclaw. She’ll never let up.”

”What’s going on?” She asked.   
  


Smith stuck his nose in the air. “We’re studying the Dark Arts, Potter. You got a problem with that?”

”What?!”

Zabini looked at him with disgust. "Have some tact, mate."

He may as well have taken the words right out of her mouth.

Greengrass sighed. “It’s not as bad as he says. We just share books that Hogwarts doesn’t have. Some of them just happen to have Dark spells and rituals.”

”Like our potions book,” Holly said, looking at Theo. 

He grinned. “Exactly like our potions book, Hols. Sit down and I’ll explain everything.”

Holly left the train with a much heavier than trunk than she'd had before. She was so excited she didn't even mind Uncle Vernon's complaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally pressed paste twice when I was on mobile, so I hopped on my desktop to fix it. Let me know if anything looks weird. Thanks :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was supposed to be just Holly being Sorted but I pictured the Hat losing its temper and this chapter just kept writing itself

“Good evening, everyone,” Dumbledore said.

Silence rolled over the Great Hall in a wave. Those nearest to the staff table saw Holly standing in front of it with the headmaster and quickly motioned for all of their housemates to shut up. Regulus very pointedly did not look at Severus Snape.

“Thank you, thank you,” Dumbledore continued. “This school has always been inclined to gossip and rumor, and this year has been so more than ever. Last week, a young witch teleported herself and her dear friend into Professor Flitwick’s charm class. That brave young lady is none other than the witch standing at my side. Her name is Holly Potter.”

A thousand heads whipped over to the Gryffindor table. James had evidently been instructed to paste on a grim facade. He and the Marauders were uncharacteristically sober, except for Lupin, who looked as polite as ever. That must be his default mask. Interesting. Regulus had always wondered why someone so mild and seemingly kind put up with the other louts.

“Ms. Potter, who has been tutored at home all these years, was attacked by Lord Voldemort’s followers. As her guardians were slaughtered, she performed an ancient ritual that would teleport her across the country and into Hogwarts. Unfortunately, the dear friend she tried so very hard to save did not manage to survive. Ms. Potter has been through a great ordeal and I can hope you will all join me in welcoming such a courageous soul into Hogwarts.”

Polite applause broke out among the students and staff. Holly,smiled back like a queen would at her peasants. He was reminded of the little girl standing on top of the Astronomy Tower.

“Now that she is well again, Ms. Potter has agreed to finish her schooling at Hogwarts.” Dumbledore said. His cheerfulness dimmed when Rosier’s older sister stood up at the Ravenclaw table.

“Yes, Ms. Rosier?”

“Forgive me, Professor. I was only wondering how she got through the wards.”

Fuck, Regulus thought. This was not good. Beside him, Rosier buried his head in his hands.

“Ah!” Dumbledore perked back up. “Our own Ms. Rosier just received news that she will be gaining her mastery in runic warding at Gringotts after graduation.”

He and Holly began applauding and soon the school politely followed.

“She’ll be neutral in the war, then?” Regulus whispered.

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Rosier said.

“It might be for the best,” Regulus murmured. “You’ll need someone to carry on the line if the worst were to happen.”

Rosier’s eyes widened in shock. He suddenly didn’t look nearly as defensive of the Dark Lord.

“Really, Evan! It’s a war. You didn’t stop to think that we might die?” Regulus scolded.

Whatever he meant to say was cut off by a second year hissing at them from Regulus’s other side. Regulus shut up, but not before he slapped the little girl up the back of the head.

“There may be several ways she got through the wars. I confess that I may never know how. The most likely way is the power put behind the activation spell. Ms. Potter was incredibly scared and angry, so it was quite possible that she put more power into it than she knew she was capable of.”

“That means she put a lot of blood into it,” Rosier muttered.

“Less likely is the age of the ritual. I came all the way from Peru, her tutor’s birthplace.”

“Definitely blood magic,” Rosier whispered.

“Sometimes ancient magics from a drastically different culture may negate a local magic. This is very rare and only occurs when the magic is very powerful and has a truly different signature. For instance, Western European or American magic would not negate British magic in the way that African or South American magic would.

“And thirdly, just as the Dark Lord is descended from Salazar Slytherin, the Potters are descendants of Godric Gryffindor. The castle may have recognized her as one of its own.”

“So two types of blood magic,” Rosier said in awe.

The little girl didn't hiss at them to shut up. Instead, she looked up at Regulus for confirmation. He nodded. He wouldn’t lie to her. It absolutely was blood magic and he would defend the Dark Arts to his dying breath. He was a Black, after all. Though even the Blacks hadn't known that the Potters were descended from Godric Gryffindor himself. It explained a lot.

Satisfied there were no other questions, Dumbledore ignored the whispering Hall and waved his wand to conjure an elaborately carved stool and the Hat. Holly perched on the stool, crossing one ankle behind the other. It was odd to see someone other than a child wear the Hat. It didn’t cover her eyes. For once, it just looked like a mangy old hat. It contrasted horribly with her well-tailored uniform and shiny black boots. Euphemia must have went on a shopping trip some time since their last meeting. They’d meant to only watch for a couple of hours, but they had been so engrossed they’d forgotten to check the time and watched her second year all at once. Regulus hadn't slumped back into the Slytherin rooms until well past two in the morning. 

Holly was very still, but he watched her face intently. Her eyes are closed and her brows were steadily furrowed. Her lips pulled down into a frown soon after. Then she was all out scowling. She lurched to her feet, the stool clattering on the stone, and tugged the Hat down as far as it would go.

“Is she arguing with it?!” Regulus said in horror.

The second year shushed him. He jerked her ponytail in revenge.

“GRYFFINDOR!” The Hat yelled.

Gryffindor table’s quietened down very, very quickly as she snarled and pulled at the brim even more forcefully.

“GRYFFINDOR!”

“Ms. Potter,” Dumbledore tried. He reached out, but the Hat jerked itself back, causing Holly to stumble.

“I SAID GRYFFINDOR!” The Hat bellowed.

“I SAID NO!” She shouted back.

A collective gasp echoed through the Hall. Something clattered over at the Gryffindor table.

“ONLY ONE OF GRYFFINDOR’S GET WOULD BE PIGHEADED ENOUGH-“

Holly screwed her face up, undoubtedly shouting just as loud in her head.

Suddenly, the Hat’s raspy laughter boomed across the Hall. “AND WHAT DO YOU THINK GODRIC WAS? HE WAS A BERSERKER, YOU IDIOT CHILD! HE KILLED MORE MUGGLES, GOBLINS. AND WIZARDS THAN ROWENA AND SALAZAR COMBINED. YOU’LL GO TO......Oh ho ho, trying to scare me, are you? WHO DO YOU THINK INVENTED FIENDFYRE OTHER THAN THAT INSUFFERABLE HOTHEADED ANCESTOR OF YOURS. NOW GO AWAY AND LET ME GO BACK TO SLEEP YOU INSOLENT LITTLE BRAT.”

By this point, Holly’s eyes were wide open and her jaw was nearly on the floor. It took her a few moments, but when she did collect herself, she handed the Hat to Dumbledore in a daze. Dumbledore himself seemed rather shocked. He stared down at the Hat as if he’d never seen it before.

“Girl!” The Hat called.

She paused on the first step, cringing, and turned back around.

“He would be proud of you. People forget that he was Salazar’s greatest friend. He valued cunning just as much as he did courage.” It seemed to scrunch up its face in thought, then jerked around to stare at the students. “Do not forget this lesson. Godric Gryffindor left his sword to guard this school, but Salazar Slytherin left his basilisk. The two of them would fight beside one another when goblins and muggles tried to breach these walls. Hogwarts is a school. It was meant to protect and nurture young minds, not divide them.”

It spun back to Holly. “You should learn to wield a sword, you know. It would do wonders for your temper.”

Then, abruptly, the Hat collapsed in on itself. Dumbledore stared at it for a moment, then tapped it with his wand and replaced it with his own hat.

The Sorting Hat cackled like a madman. 

“SLYTHERIN!” It yelled.

Everyone stared. Even the Staff Table gaped like a row of fishes. Dumbledore beamed.

“Would anyone else like a go since you’ve already ruined my nap?” The Hat demanded.

To Regulus’s utter horror, Sirius stood from his seat and began strutting up the aisle. Of course. Of course he would. Of course he would make a show out of how so very brave and adventurous he was. Then, of fucking course James Potter, Remus Lupin, and the sniveling little rat had to stand up. More surprisingly, Lily Evans got up to join them. She, however, was much less arrogant about it all.

“I’m fucking tired of this,” Regulus snapped, and before he knew what he was doing, he was halfway up the row.

He heard footsteps and glanced behind him to see the same little girl right on his heels. He sighed, rolled his eyes, and glared up at the ceiling. Still, he took great pride in being a gentleman, so he stopped to let her catch up and hold his hand. She squeezed it tight. They sidled into line behind Evans just as James Potter settled the Hat on his head.

“Sort you aloud, you say?” The hat said. “Very well. Very courageous of you.” It let out a nasty chuckle. “Oh, you’re ambitious and cunning, your pranks have seen to that. And very loyal. Slytherins are always loyal to those they deem worthy, but you Godricson, value loyalty to the innocent. And it seems you value fairness despite- or perhaps in spite- of all your petty bullying. Definitely a Gryffindor to the bone, no doubt about that, but Hufflepuff could teach you more about what you lack. Which will it be? The lions or the badgers?”

Potter tilted his head in thought. “Well, I’ve got my brothers in Gryffindor, and I just found Holly, and I finally got Evans to go out with me.”

A chorus of ‘awws’ and several cat calls rang out.

“But Lily’s always been on to me for being such a prat and I want to make her proud. I think I ought to go to Hufflepuff.”

“Excellent! Godric would be proud. HUFFLEPUFF!”

Loud cheers rang out to from the sea of yellow. James Potter made a show out of kissing Lily’s hand before making his way to sit with some of the seventh years. Sirius lowered on to the stool and slipped the Hat over his long, black hair. He looked like some handsome vagabond from the fourteenth century.

“There’s nothing for me to say and you know it. GRYFFINDOR!”

Sirius gazed morosely at James before heading back to his table. Remus Lupin was next.

“I remember you! Such a brilliant mind. You’re as Gryffindor as your brothers, but Rowena would have fought tooth and nail for a brain like that....Yes, yes, even with your little secret.”

“I’m truly honored,” Lupin said as politely as ever, ”but I feel that I value courage and chivalry more than wit and learning. It would feel dishonest and disrespectful to Ravenclaw House.”

“Very noble of you. Very GRYFFINDOR!”

He left the dais to much applause from the Ravenclaw table. Lily Evans was left to urge Pettigrew up to the stool. The bastard was going to end up in Slytherin and Snape was going to kill him.

“Oh ho ho! What have we got here?! How you have changed, Peter Pettigrew, how you have changed. You’ve grown to place worth on self-preservation and ambition over courage. That cleverness of yours has transformed into cunning. I'll eat myself if you're not a SLYTHERIN!”

Peter Pettigrew was terrified. He paused, as if contemplating if he could turn into a rat and run away. Peter Pettigrew should be terrified. There was absolutely no doubt in Regulus’s mind that Severus would sneak into his room tonight and crucio him half to death and Regulus couldn’t decide if he should stop it from happening.

Lily Evans sat gracefully on the stool. He wondered, vaguely, if she was adopted. That horrid Petunia didn't look anything like her. Well...maybe they had the same nose. The same long, elegant neck. It made him think of Holly lying in her hospital bed.

Yes, Regulus decided, he would stop Severus. It was not his kill. Peter Pettigrew's life belonged to the Potters.

"Hello Miss Evans. I thought I might meet you again. Hmm....Tricky, tricky....You're ruthless, dear girl. You would do unspeakable things for the ones you love. One might even say unforgiveable things." The Hat let out another one of his dark chuckles. "Oh, you've got a darkness in you that Salazar would have honed into a great weapon, much like a believe a certain Tom Riddle would like to do. Yes, yes....you could be great in Slytherin. Terrible, yes, but great! Just like another of your kin....Not that you and they do not belong in Gryffindor. Still brave, still noble and chivalrous. Tricky, tricky....No, my dear, that hunger in you is for power, not knowledge. Do not mistake it and do not fear it. No, Ravenclaw isn't for you I'm afraid. Hmm....Ms. Evans, you are a credit to Gryffindor, but I believe you would do well in Slytherin. Will you go?"

Lily Evans tilted her head like he'd seen a pair of twins do so many times before.

"I'm suprised to find that I would very much like to go. I think I might like to be terrible and great." She smiled wrily. "Unfortunately, I don't think I'd last through the night."

"Their loss, then. Oh ho ho, is it their loss!" It chuckled once more. "The heart of a lion and the cunning of a snake, Godric's favorite type of...GRYFFINDOR!"   
Regulus met her eyes as she passed. How very, very interesting. The rest of the students seemed to share his opinion because they were all whispering and hissing. Slytherin especially looked ready to riot. He saw, as he climbed the dais, that Old Sluggie looked very smug.

The Hat fit like any other wizard's hat. It was sad to have that bit nostalgia ruined.

Hurriedly, he thought, 'I don't know what Holly showed you, but it would be for the best if you didn't reveal anything about it.'

The Hat chuckled. "Oh no, Young Black, oh no. I'll keep your secrets. Very Slytherin of you. But hmm....What was it you thought not minutes ago? I'll defend the Dark Arts to my dying breath.' That is not correct, Young Black. I think 'I'll defend magic to my dying breath' would be more accurate. I once said you would do well in Ravenclaw. That's still very true. Perhaps more true now than ever. But then, there's something I didn't tell you, something perhaps I shouldn't....I once sorted a Seer who Saw your death."

Regulus made sure to look approriately stunned and terrified, but in his head he shared a laugh with the Hat.

'Oh, you clever thing you,' Regulus thought.

'I do have a bit of Slytherin in me,' It joked.

Aloud, it said, "What you did, or perhaps will do, is incredibly brave. More courageous than even most Gryffindors could be. But as I have said many times tonight, Salazar was just as brave as Godric. Not as reckless or brazen, but no less brave...But where to put you....Hmm...Gryffindor's not for you, despite your courage. No. You'd be too bored with their limitations....You would thrive in Ravenclaw, you who worship magic as you do...But you, Regulus Black, take pride in your cunning, ambition, and resourcefulness. Better stay in....SLYTHERIN!"

He walked back to his table, quite shocked at the fervor in their applause. He was also surprised to see that a line of students had gathered behind the second year. She sat down and placed the Hat firmly only her head. Regulus smiled fondly.

"Oh, what a surprise!" the Hat said. "I do so prefer the young. Your minds aren't quite set in stone. The bigotry hasn't had a chance to set in yet...But hmm...You're loyal and brave, that's for sure, but dear Amanda, in contrast to Mr. Potter, you value loyalty to your own instead of justice and values. I still think you'll do best in....SLYTHERIN!"   
Regulus didn't bother to hide his enthusiasm. He quite liked the little shit. She took her seat next to him and nodded very professionally.

"Thank you, Amanda. You are boon to our house."

She snorted almost delicately. "I'm well aware."   
All in all, almost fifty students chose to be Sorted. Half of them changed over. Five more muggleborns were offered Slytherin and wisely, they all declined. Regulus found himself realizing the purity wasn't worth turning witches like Lily Potter away. The confused faces around him revealed that perhaps the other Slytherins were wondering about it too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next will be another meeting, this time with Holly present, and after that the beginning of the third year


	9. Chapter 9

Regulus strode into Dumbledore’s office and stared at the new emerald accents plastered throughout the room. He closed his eyes, took a deep, calming breath, and walked further in. Euphemia sat in her usual spot at the sofa. She and Severus didn’t bother to hide their own exasperation.   
  
“Excellent. Right on time, Regulus,” Albus said. At least he wasn’t wearing green as he had every day of the week since the damn Re-Sorting. “We’re waiting on just one more person for tonight.”  
  
Euphemia slipped a lock of hair behind her ears and nodded in greeting. She was handsome for her age, accentuated all the more by her regality. Regulus briefly wondered how formidable his mother might have been had she not succumbed to the Black madness.   
  
“I would like to commend Regulus on his bravery Wednesday night,” Albus announced.   
  
Regulus grimaced. “It was more blind rage than courage. You went first Professor, it is you who should be commended.”   
  
“It was Holly who gave me the idea. The war she faced had changed her priorities and I wondered how my own had affected me. I sometimes wonder if we sort too early, or perhaps if we should be sorted twice in our school years.”  
  
“A splendid idea, Albus,” Euphemia praised. “I believe we discover more about ourselves around the time we reach fifth year. It would be an excellent learning opportunity and promote house unity.”  
  
“Not until the war is over,” Severus said as flatly as ever. “I lie awake at night and think of all the things I could do to Peter Pettigrew, sleeping so soundly a room away. I wouldn’t wish such suffering on my fellow students.”  
  
Regulus coughed in an effort to hide his laughter. He failed, if Dumbledore’s reproaching look was any indication. Thankfully though, there was a knock at the door.   
  
“Come in!”   
  
Holly Potter entered, her hair a mess of wavy curls escaping a knot on top of her head. It should have looked dreadful, but it made her seem more like a girl than a war veteran. Sirius stood behind her, his own hair pulled back at the nape of his neck. He looked severely constipated.   
  
“Sorry!” Holly said. “I thought it might be best if I got his energy out in a pick up game. We lost track of time.”  
  
“Very wise of you,” Euphemia said. She rose to kiss her granddaughter warmly on the cheek before greeting Sirius similarly. “Gentlemen, I have a proposition to make. If we decide to continue-“  
  
“If?” Regulus blurted, training his eyes on Euphemia so he wouldn’t be tempted to scowl at his brother. “Why wouldn’t we?”  
  
Euphemia raised her brow. “Albus entrusted Holly with her wand and placed enough faith in her to live amongst his students.”  
  
“I still don’t want to,” Holly grumbled.   
  
“Hush, child. You fought that battle and lost,” Euphemia chastised.  
  
“Shouldn’t we know what happened?” Regulus asked. “So we know what to do differently? I would very much like to live to see my twentieth birthday.”  
  
Sirius’s figure moved, but Regulus couldn’t bring himself to look. There were too many possibilities and he couldn’t decide how he felt about any of them. Merlin. He wished they’d warned him so he could’ve brought a vial of antacid. Being around Sirius always gave him heartburn.   
  
“I quite agree, Regulus,” Albus said.   
  
Holly tilted her head thoughtfully. It was still very strange to see her do it as a near adult instead of as a diabolical child. “Well, like I told Grandmother, third year’s next and the war doesn’t really set off until the summer of fifth year. You can skip if you want.”  
  
“Would you like us to?” Albus asked.   
  
She shrugged. “I don’t care either way. It’s weird to see someone so interested in my life, though.”  
  
“You and your brother have lived a very interesting life, Ms. Potter, and I would like to apologize for the hand I played in it. I fear-“  
  
“Albus,” Severus drawled. Again, Sirius twitched. Again, both Severus and Sirius resolutely looked away.   
  
“Quite right, Severus, quite right. We haven’t the time for one of my tangents. Now, Mrs. and Ms. Potter, what is your proposition?”  
  
“Holly has explained that this is the year she meets Sirius. Therefore, we think it would be advantageous for Sirius to see where his choices in life will lead him. I propose that he takes my spot for her third year.”  
  
Regulus couldn’t resist any longer. He looked. His brother was blanching down at the ornate carpet under his boots.   
  
“I agree,” Albus said. “Gentlemen?”  
  
Regulus nodded. He trusted Dumbledore to keep Sirius from running his mouth. Sirius respected him enough for that, or at least Regulus hoped so.   
  
“I can come back at a later date,” Severus said, already rising.   
  
“No! Please,” Holly said. She cringed a little, twisting a large sapphire ring around her finger. It was a Black ring, he realized. It should be in Mother’s jewelry box. It probably was in Mother’s jewelry box, come to think of it, and that was it’s future self. How bizarre. “Third year....You and....We reached an agreement of sorts in my third year. It would mean a lot if you saw.”  
  
Severus froze. He eyes darted from her to Sirius and back again. Then, with a deep sigh, he collapsed back into his seat.  
  
“Very well,” he acquiesced.   
  
“Thank you. It really does mean a lot. I hope...I hope we can be friends one day.”  
  
His lips thinned, but he didn’t reject her. Regulus frowned. There was no reason for him to be such a snob. She was intelligent, reasonable, and seemed to care for him a great deal. Quite frankly, Severus Snape didn’t seem to have anyone else that cared about him at all.   
  
“In that case, I’ll return for fourth year,” Euphemia said. “Good night, gentlemen. I have a date with my husband and a dreadful western film.”  
She left in a graceful swish of her amethyst robes.   
  
Holly tugged at Sirius’s hand, pulling him over to the seats. She, to Regulus’s immense surprise, pushed him down onto the left side of his loveseat and squeezed herself between them. He tried very hard to not think of how warm and small her thigh was pressed against his, how she smelled like the wind and the sun and sweat.   
  
“Does anyone have any questions for me so far?” She asked.   
  
Severus’s dark eyes darted from Holly to Sirius before he quietly asked, “What does Lily know?”  
  
Holly straightened. With a jolt, Regulus realized she was acting like a student being quizzed. Bloody hell this was strange.   
  
“She’s overwhelmed, understandably. I’ve let her come to me instead of bombarding her with everything at once. You taught me that, actually. Apparently I’m a little overbearing sometimes....Anyway, so far she’s only asked little things like our favorite colors and subjects and spells, that sort of thing.”  
  
Severus nodded.   
  
“Anything else?” She asked.  
  
“How did you come by that ring?” Regulus asked. 

She blushed a little as she held it out for all of them to see. Her nails were charmed a bright pink. “Sirius told me I could take whatever I wanted from Grimmauld Place. I hope you don’t mind.”  
  
“Not at all. Merely curious,” Regulus reassured her.   
  
“Any more?” She asked  
  
No one spoke. She nodded, mouth pursed, and placed her wand to her temple. Her face scrunched up in concentration as she coaxed long silver tendrils out with her wand. They mixed into the pensive in a dizzying swirl. She stared at it thoughtfully.   
  
“Can I fit?” She eventually asked.   
  
“Pardon?” Albus said.   
  
“Can it hold me, too?”  
  
Sirius squeezed her knee. Annoyance bit at Regulus. He waited for Holly to brush him off, to declare her independence, but she didn’t. She even seemed to lean into it.   
  
Albus studied her solemnly. “The pensieve has a maximum capacity of ten people. Are you sure this is what you want?”  
  
She nodded. “Just the first one. I’d like to see someone get blown up again.”  
“I-....very well. In we go.”  
  


* * *

_A girl with wild hair was curled up on a double bed, her back to the wall. She was reading a book so large it nearly dwarfed her torso. The cover read, “A Runic History of Wizarding Nursery Rhymes: Vol. 1”. She was so entranced in her that she didn’t notice a very similar looking boy rush into the room.   
_   
_“Aunt Marge is nearly here,” Harry Potter said.  
_

Holly let out a delighted laugh. “Look how teeny he is! He’s hardly as tall as I am!”  
  
Sirius bent down to study him. “Christ! And I thought you look like James! This is his miniature.”  
  
“You have no idea. I see him out of the corner of my eye and I think it’s Harry. I did think he was Harry when I first got here.”  
  
Sirius looked like he was going to say something, but for the first time in his life kept his pretty mouth shut. _  
  
“Not our aunt,” Holly said without looking up.  
  
“She’s our uncle’s sister. That makes her our aunt. Are you _still_ reading? Didn’t you finish that stupid vampire series last week?”  
  
In response, she held the book up further, but never stopped reading. Harry blanched as he read the title.   
“Merlin, that’s even worse.”  
  
_“Totally not reading anything about Runes. If I remember correctly...” She climbed on the bed to peer over her younger self’s shoulder. “Yep! That’s the book on self-transfiguration Smith lent me. I had to pay him three favors to get him to part with it. I really don’t know how he ended up in Hufflepuff. I hated him and I usually appreciate a quality prat.”  
  
She leaned close to study herself, eyes squinted. “We’ve Grandmother’s nose, haven’t we?”  
_  
“We’d best go downstairs. We’ll be done for if we don’t.”  
  
“I don’t understand why they don’t just let us hide away up here. Marge hates us enough.”  
  
Harry suddenly scowled. “If you don’t want to be here then why don’t you run off to your Slytherin boyfriend’s house?”  
  
That got Holly’s attention. She calmly closed her book and set it aside.   
  
“I could have gone to Luna’s,” she admitted, “but I thought I’d be a good sister and stay for moral support.”  
  
Harry gritted his teeth. His eyes were close to burning holes in the carpet.   
  
Holly sighed. “Come along, Brother. We’ll have to do something about that temper or you’ll never survive the next two weeks.”  
  
_Holly hopped off the bed and went back to stand by Sirius. “Just wait, you’ll love when he loses it."  
  
Regulus watched them warily as they followed the twins down the stairs. Albus was too busy studying their body language to catch his sudden surge of envy, but Severus caught his eye. Yes, Severus Snape would know all about a Gryffindor getting the girl, wouldn’t he?  
  
They followed Albus into the small, plain foyer. Strangely, it made him yearn for Grimmauld Place. Home was admittedly a bit too dark and depressing, but it had personality. It had soul. This house rose the hair on his arms. It was too bland, too empty, too devoid of_ everything.  
  
The twins huddled together behind their incredibly large cousin while a horse-faced woman shot them dirty looks. Her hand kept twitching as though she wanted to flatten their hair, but knew it was a losing battle.   
  
“How are you so calm?” Harry hissed.   
  
“I have a plan,” she whispered back. “If you had any sense, you’d make one too.”  
  
Harry screwed up his face in thought. “What’s your plan?”  
  
“Oh, I’m going to pretend to be Luna. And when that doesn’t work, I’m going to imagine what Lucius Malfoy would be like if he were here.”  
  
_Regulus laughed. “You were a violent one, weren’t you?”  
  
“The ladies of the House of Black have always been formidable,”* she said, and Regulus’s heart lurched into his throat. Sirius stared at her like she’d grown a second head and ever so slowly turned to look at Regulus. Regulus, caught somewhere between arousal, terror, and agonizing hope and disappointment, couldn’t bring himself to say anything back.   
_  
A very square woman shoved her bulk through the door, two bulldogs yipping and yapping as they followed her through. Aunt Petunia watched them with a sharp, damning eye. Her sister in law was either clueless or uncaring for her opinion, however, because she gathered her into a worryingly tight embrace. They shared faux kisses, Petunia growing more strained by the second, though her face softened when Marge doted on her son. Then, she rounded on the twins.   
  
“There you are, you ungrateful little brats. I was wondering if you would come out of your dingy hidey-hole.”  
  
Harry Potter’s eyes flashed. Holly, however, smiled dreamily.   
  
“When’s the last time you brushed your hair, girl?!” The woman barked.   
  
“You don’t brush curls or waves. It makes them frizzy. Might be why your-“  
  
“Hello, Aunt Marge,” Harry cut in.  
  
“And you! Going to criminal’s school are you?”   
  
“Yes. St. Brutus’s School for-“  
  
“They beat you there, boy?”  
  
“Oh yeah,” the boy said, not quite hiding his amusement. “I get beaten loads of times.”  
  
“Boy! Go take your aunt’s things upstairs. And you, girl...go read somewhere. But be back to bake a dessert at six!”   
  
“Five, Vernon,” Petunia said. “The pudding must cool for an hour.”  
_

“What the fuck?! What are you, their fucking house elves?”  
  
“Language, Sirius.”  
  
“Professor, you can’t not be angry!”  
  
“Grammar, Sirius,” Regulus cut in wearily.   
  
He scowled and flipped his hand nonchalantly. He looked very out of place in his moto-cicle boots and long hair. Despite the muggle clothes, Regulus thought he looked very much like a Black: powerful, dark, and dangerous.   
  
“Just shut up and watch, Sirius. It works itself out in the end,” Holly said.   
  
It hadn’t thought, had it? She wouldn’t be here showing them her memories if it had.  
  
The house whirled around as snippets of scenes played out in front of them. For the most part, Marge seemed to ignore Holly and her airy demeanor. She gave Harry hell though. She berated and cursed him for days on end. Even Snape gained a nasty sneer, the one usually reserved for the likes of Peter Pettigrew and James Potter.   
  
The kitchen materialized around them next. Harry and Holly were both cooking with the television playing in the dining room. Watching them work together was mesmerizing. One seemed to sense were the other one would be without even looking. Holly would pause her stirring to raise an arm so Harry could reach a spice or a utensil, all without sharing a glance or a world. It was almost creepy in the way that twins could be.   
  
“You should have seen us fight,” a voice said at his shoulder.   
  
He looked down to see Holly had moved between him and Severus. She seemed to have been watching them instead of the memory.   
  
“They thought they could handle us when it was one or the other, but the Potter twins together?” She smirked. “If they saw us together they’d run like they did from Dumbledore.”  
  
Regulus appraised her. “That’s very arrogant of you to say.”  
  
“It was Harry, really. I did okay on my own, but he was the one the Dark Lord feared. He was a powerhouse and a dueling prodigy. It was like he was born for the war.”  
  
Regulus looked at the skinny little thing chopping onions. He didn’t seem like much. In fact, if Regulus hadn’t been watching the fire in his eyes build day by day, he might have said he was a meek boy. Funny how someone so ordinary could change everything.   
  
“...Sirius Black,” a woman on the television said. Everyone, including the twins, turned to watch. “Authorities wish to remind you that Black is armed and dangerous.”  
  
A still photograph appeared on the screen. Sirius looked gaunt and pale, almost like he was swimming through the depths of his sleek hair. He wore a handsome sneer and his eyes....Merlin’s beard, his eyes.   
  
His face disappeared and the pretty Muggle flashed back on the screen. She chattered on about 999, whatever that meant, but Regulus couldn’t get the photo out of mind.  
  
Sirius turned to them from where he was crouched in front of the screen.   
  
“I look like Bella,” he said.  
  
He could have been speaking to any of them, but it was Regulus who said, “Bella’s got bigger tits.”  
  
It worked. Sirius rolled his shoulders and stood to his full six feet (Regulus was very proud of being well on his way to growing more than that, perhaps even as tall as their father).   
  
“You’d know wouldn’t you, you inbred twat,” he said, an arrogant cheer back in his tone.   
  
Regulus rolled his eyes to the speckled ceiling. Before he could point out that they shared the same parents, Holly said, “I’ve seen your feet. You’ve got webbed toes, too.”  
  
Sirius opened his mouth to retort, but the scene shifted one last time.   
  
_The Dursleys shoveled food in their round faces while the twins slaved away in the kitchen. Harry forcefully sliced fruit as Holly fooled around with a cake. She carved in symbols that looked suspiciously like the runes for bad health and misfortune before spreading icing over the surface.   
  
“Don’t eat the cake,” she warned Harry.   
  
“What did you do to it?”  
  
“The less you know brother, the less you know.”  
  
Harry, who vividly remembered his sister’s ongoing camaraderie with Fred and George Weasley, turned back to violently dismantling strawberries. They worked in companionable silence. Harry swatted his sister’s hands when she began to arrange the fruit into a model of male genitalia.  
  
Holly put on her Luna mask, one of faraway eyes and a dreamy smile, and walked the cake out.  
  
“It’s like I always say, Vernon,” Marge said, her voice suddenly raising. “It’s all in the breeding.”  
  
Holly twitched.   
  
“I’ve seen it time and time again,” Marge went on. She held out her empty glass. “Just a touch more brandy, Petunia. No, go on. Just a little more. More. Good. Yes, that’s good, dear. Now as I was saying, it’s all in the breeding. I’ve seen it time and time again in my dogs.  
  
“Just look at this one. Not a thought in her pretty little head, is there? If there’s something wrong with the bitch, then there’s something wrong with the pup. Don’t know how you managed it, Petunia, but you turned out alright. Unlike that dreadful sister of yours.”  
  
The lights flickered and the house rumbled. Petunia and Vernon clutched at the table, but Marge was too intoxicated to notice a thing.   
  
“How was it they died again? Oh yes, that’s right. Their lazy drunk of a father got them killed in-“  
  
“MY FATHER WAS NOT A DRUNK!” Harry Potter bellowed.  
  
“_Oh dear,” Albus said._  
  
Harry stood just outside the kitchen archway with his fists clenched. Cabinets doors opened and slammed shut, glasses rattled, the lights flashed on and off. His sister’s dreamy smile widened into a malevolent smirk.   
  
“MY PARENTS DID NOT DIE IN A CAR CRASH!” He screamed.   
  
Marge began to swell. It was subtle at first, but then her rings pinched at her growing fingers and the buttons on her collar popped off.  
  
“AND MY SISTER IS SMARTER THAN YOU WILL EVER BE!”  
  
With that, Marge’s inflation quickened exponentially. She floated out of her chair and bumped along the ceiling to the garden doors. Vernon and Petunia screeched. The doors suddenly flung open and she bobbed her way past the porch and up, up, up into the sky. Far below, in the back lawn, Vernon and Petunia cried and screamed at the darkening sky.  
  
Harry took several breaths before nodding resolutely. He grabbed his sister by the hand and pulled her through the house. The cupboard door unlocked as he passed by. On the bottom stair, a messy pile of books and clothes waited eagerly. The siblings stared down at it.   
  
“Did you?...” he asked.   
  
“No,” she said quietly. “I didn’t unlock the cupboard this time either.”  
_

_“_Merlin,” Sirius breathed. “How did someone so powerful come out James’s ballsack?”  
  
Holly and Severus made voices at the back of their throats.   
  
“Oh god,” she said, her voice deep with horror. “How could you?”   
  
Sirius wasn’t paying her any attention. He watched, growing more and more unsettled as the doors and trunks opened themselves. It was as though they knew what Harry Potter wanted, like they wanted to please him.   
  
“Merlin,” Sirius swore again. “Is he doing that on purpose?”  
  
“A little, I think,” Holly said thoughtfully. “Harry never was one for rules, even rules of magic. I mean look at him! I would have wanted to stop and figure out why and how my magic was listening to me, but he didn’t even hesitate. All action and no thought, my brother.”  
  
Regulus huffed in amusement. He understood that sentiment all too well.   
  
_The door bashed against the wall before the twins reached it. They rolled their trunks down across the lawn, where the gate nearly tore itself off its hinges to let them pass. Harry led the way, silently fuming as he stomped down street after street. Holly followed him calmly, taking in the darkening sky and neat hedges. He didn’t slam himself onto the curb until it was the stars shone in the sky. She leaned back against her trunk and studied the constellations. _  
  
_“Right. I’m screwed,” he said matter of factly.   
_  
_“You’re the Boy Who Lived. You’ll be fine.”_  
  
_“Easy for you to say! You didn’t blow up-“_  
  
_“Please, don’t be dramatic. You did not blow her up. You just...inflated her a little bit.”_  
  
_“Holly! This is serious!” He cried, rounding to glare at her. _  
  
_“I am being serious! She didn’t explode! She just floated away. That’s hardly terrible. Remember all that stuff in the Polyjuice book? That’s how you blow someone up.” At her brother’s incredulous look, she rolled her eyes and sat up. “Think, Harry! We just have to get to the Weasley’s and they’ll sort everything out. Mr. Weasley works in the Muggle department doesn’t he?” _  
  
_“Well...yeah. I guess,” he conceded, glancing down at the pavement. He picked at where the sole was tearing off from his trainer. “How are we going to get there?”_  
  
_“Bloody hell, what would you do without me?! Last year you were stupid enough to fly a car to school when I left you on your own. I have enough sense to carry around mone_y and _buy shoes that aren’t peeling apart, while we’re on the subject.”_  
  
_“We’re not on that-“_  
  
_“There’s probably still a train going to London. We walk to the station, take a train to London, find the Leaky Cauldron, and Floo call the Weasleys or the Lovegoods. Mrs. Corner made me write down her number last year so we can call her if anything goes wrong, but I think we can manage it.” Holly stood and held her hand out. “Come on. Get up. Let’s get back to the magical world. I’d even be happy to-"_  
  
_She abruptly spun, brows furrowed. Harry was on his feet in a second. He raised his wand and peered into the greenery across the street. The leaves of a bush shook, and suddenly, a pair of grey eyes loomed at them.   
_  
_“No!” Holly cried, her face pale. “No! Absolutely NOT!”  
_  
_In the same moment, light flashed, an engine roared, and a purple double decker materialized in front of them. A bored voice began to recite a greeting, but was abruptly cut off by Holly shoving Harry onto the stairs. He was too bewildered to fight back.   
_  
_“Oi!” The conductor said. “What’s the rush?!”  
_  
_Holly flung a galleon at him.   
_  
_“The Leaky Cauldron!” She snapped.   
_  
_The conductor grumbled under his breath, but raised his wand to load their trunks all the same.   
_  
_“What was that?!” Harry cried.  
_  
_“A fucking grim, that’s what it was.”  
_  
_“A what? I didn’t see-“  
_  
_“That’s because you’re too cheap not to get the oculus potion like I did!”  
_  
_“It was five installments of a hundred-“  
_  
_“And I can fucking see, can’t I?!”  
_  
_A snoring woman grumbled in her sleep and flipped over. The conductor narrowed his eyes at them. _  
_Harry squeezed closer to his sister.  
_  
_“What’s got you so scared?” He hissed.   
_  
_“It was a grim! It’s an omen of death.”  
_  
_He stared at her, his face going very pale.   
_  
_“I absolutely refuse to die, Harry. Not before I get to to wear a-“  
_  
_Her words were cut off as the Knight Bus lurched forward into the English countryside.  
_

* * *

  
The five of them stumbled back into reality. Albus waved his hand to light the now dark room. His power truly was frightening to behold. Regulus could hardly levitate a feather off his desk wandlessly. He wondered, not for the first time, what Dumbledore was truly capable of.   
  
Regulus, Severus, and Albus took their usual seats. It was odd to have Holly share his loveseat instead of Euphemia. She was much more petite and her appearance nowhere near as sleek. Sirius was too full of energy to sit down. He stood beside Severus and tapped his wand against the heel of his hand in agitation.  
  
“I will begin,” Severus said, eyeing Sirius’s wand warily. “We have heard all of what Harry Potter did, but this is the first time we’ve witnessed his power ourselves. While I did not doubt your memories, Ms. Potter, it certainly makes them easier to believe.”  
  
She nodded. “Many unbelievable things happened to Harry. It becomes an issue later on. No one wanted to believe the Dark Lord-“  
  
“Why do you call him that?” Sirius demanded with a scowl.   
  
“There was a Taboo. We usually called him by his birth name, but we haven’t got that far in the story.”  
  
“What’s his birth name?”  
  
“Tom Marvolo Riddle,” Regulus said. “It was his diary he cursed and left behind, the one that Harry destroyed.”  
  
Albus watched Holly carefully as she sat on her hands. Sirius and Regulus shared a glance. It might seem odd to sit on one’s hands to anyone else, but they were Blacks. They spent many a dinner with their hands stuffed under their legs, lest they fidget and get hexed. Sons of Most Ancient and Noble Houses absolutely did not fidget.   
  
“The diary is important,” Regulus said softly. “Why?”  
  
“You’ll see,” she said. “But I think you’ll figure it out first, anyway.”  
  
She looked up at the domed ceiling, at all the portraits watching them. “It’s how you died.”  
  
Albus sucked in a breath. He looked at Regulus anew, his eyes alight with something he couldn’t quite name. Pride, maybe? Respect? They were all so sentimental. It was exhausting to try to pretend to care half as much as they did.   
  
“How did I die?” Sirius demanded, his chin jutted like it did when he refused Mother.   
  
Holly let out a deep breath and looked him in the eye. “I killed you.”  
  
Sirius stared. His grey eyes studied her face as though he could see under her skin. He must have found whatever he was looking for, because he nodded once.   
  
“Thank you.”  
  
Holly turned her attention to the fireplace. It was bright and roaring but charmed to keep in the heat. Autumn was still weeks away.   
  
Albus broke the silence. “I usually do not condone violence against the defenseless, but I must confess to taking pleasure in your cake decorating, Holly.”  
  
She smiled weakly. “Do you think it would have worked? I was trying push my magic through the knife, but I can’t remember if it felt any different.”  
  
“It certainly would not have been as effective as anything Lucius Malfoy would have done,” Severus drawled.   
  
She barked out a laugh eerily similar to Sirius’s. “I told him about that once. He said he would have killed his way out of even being put there in the first place. I hate that man with a passion, but I can’t help admiring what a slimy bastard he is.”  
  
“Charisma is a dangerous thing,” Dumbledore said thoughtfully. “You are drawn to natural charisma, Holly. Would you mind telling me what you thought of Tom?”  
  
Holly tilted her head as she considered it.   
  
“It’s not necessarily charisma I’m attracted to, but power. You’ve seen how I grew up. All I ever wanted was a say in things. Lucius Malfoy might be many things, but he is definitely powerful. Charisma is just one of the ways he is powerful. Also, he has great hair.”  
  
“How perceptive. Thank you for sharing something so personal.”  
  
“Oh just wait till you see my boggart. You’ll love it.”  
  
A clock chimed and the portraits rustled as they reflected on all that they’d seen and heard. Sirius, for once, was quiet and thoughtful. He even threw himself into the chair beside Severus, who twitched like a spider.   
  
Eventually, Holly stretched and yawned. “Sorry gents, but I’m knackered. I forgot how exhausting school is. I put all of year three in there.”  
  
“I’ll escort you back,” Regulus said, rising to his feet.   
  
Sirius stared at him suspiciously. Holly, however, merely shrugged.   
  
“Same time next week?” He asked.   
  
The other three nodded.   
  
“I’m going to see James,” Sirius announced, rushing to the door.   
  
“I believe I have gone temporarily deaf and am unaware of any rule breaking you have just announced,” Dumbledore said pleasantly. “Severus, a word, if I may?”  
  
Holly took Regulus’s arm. Neither of them spoke until Dumbledore’s gargoyles were around the corner.   
  
“That was a blatant attempt to keep them away from each other,” she said.   
  
“No, it wasn’t very Slytherin of him, was it?”   
  
They walked in companionable silence through the halls. Regulus wasn’t a coward, not really, but he was a sixteen year old boy and Holly was a very pretty girl. He didn’t gather his courage until they were nearly to the Gryffindor common room.  
  
“Were you married to Sirius?” Regulus asked.   
  
Holly startled, dragging him to a halt. “What?! Why on earth would you think that?”   
  
“He’s powerful,” Regulus pointed out. “Charismatic. Great hair.”  
  
She smiled sheepishly.   
  
“You saw his feet. You have his ring. You have his laugh. You said....you called yourself Lady Black.”  
  
To his utter astonishment, she blushed.   
  
“Oh, that’s not...I’m sorry,” she said. “We were our own little family, you know, me and Harry and Sirius. I didn’t mean to overstep.”  
  
“I’m not offended, Holly,” Regulus said softly, trying to calm the roiling storm in his stomach. “I was just curious.”  
  
“Oh. No, we definitely weren’t.” She placed her hand in the crook of his elbow and led him down the corridor. “I mean, I definitely had a crush on him at one point. Everyone did. Even Hermione had her Sirius phase. But he never encouraged it.   
  
“Harry...Harry wanted a father figure. I never did. I didn’t trust people like Dumbledore and Lupin to put much stock in their words. Sirius knew that. I think that was what he was like growing up. So he never tried. He let me take care of him so I let him take care of me. It was what we both needed. We weren’t father and daughter, or brother and sister, but we were family.”  
  
They stopped outside the portrait of the Fat Lady. She peered down at them suspiciously. Every Slytherin worth his salt knew the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, they just had the sense and manners not to try and go in. If Holly’s memories were anything to go by, Slytherin’s weren’t half as terrifying or respected as they thought they were. Of course, a Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff wouldn’t do it. Only a Gryffindor would be rude enough to sneak into another common room.   
  
Regulus bit the inside of his cheek to keep from blurting out something stupid. He desperately wanted to say something. He wasn’t a blushing virgin by any means, but Holly was different. She wasn’t just a passing triviality, a pretty girl to amuse himself with. She was intelligent, unyielding, and most importantly, unabashedly dark. She wouldn’t cower away from his family’s secrets. She probably already knew them and had reveled in their ancient magic as he had.   
  
“Are you married to anyone?” He asked.   
  
“Ha! No.”  
  
“Do you have a partner?”   
  
She turned to face him, brows raised. “No.”  
  
“That’s good,” he heard himself say, and immediately wanted to permanently charm his lips together.   
  
“It is, is it?” She said, her dark brows creeping even higher.   
  
Well, he’d already admitted it. Might as well keep it up.   
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“That’s all you’re going to say?”  
  
“For now, yes. I have tact. It isn’t an appropriate time. You’ve obviously got a heap of other things on your mind. Chief among them the house you refused to be sorted into it. How is that going, by the way?”   
  
She narrowed her eyes. “Fighting dirty isn’t very amorous of you.”  
  
“Please. You’d be bored with anything else.”  
  
“ALRIGHT!” A deep voice yelled. “That’s enough, children!”   
  
Sirius appeared out of thin air much like he was off a cloak. As a matter of fact...  
  
“Is that the Potter invisibility cloak? Can I see it?” Regulus asked.   
  
“No,” Sirius said, just as Holly said, “Yes.”  
  
“It’s James’s until you’re born, kitten. Ergo, it is mine until I’ve seen how hard the dementors fu-...Right Regulus, that is a bit crude for present company. Forgive me.”  
  
Holly scoffed. “I expelled the entrails of-“  
  
“Well I never!” The Fat Lady cried.   
  
“Of course you haven’t. You’re from 1638. I’d be surprised-“  
  
“Alright, twenty second rule of being a Gryffindor,” Sirius said. “Never insult the beautiful-“  
  
“The Eagle wasn’t nearly as much of a gossip.”  
  
The Fat Lady harrumphed.   
  
“I’m going to bed before you lot get yourselves locked out and need my help,” Regulus declared. “Good night to you both. Sirius, don’t bring too much shame to the family name until I see you tomorrow at lunch." And then because Sirius was there and Holly was a Gryffindor, so she had to appreciate some brazenness, "Holly, let me know when the time is right. I don’t know about the dementors-“  
  
“Don’t. You. Dare.” Sirius growled.   
  
Holly, however, burst into laughter. "Good night, Regulus."  
  


"Periwinkle!" Sirius snapped. He almost shoved Holy through the portrait hole. Regulus lingered long enough to hear him say, "Just wait until your father hears about this, young lady."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was fun to write them all watching together, but holy shit was it a technical nightmare. I don’t think I’ll be doing that again. 😂 Italics and spacing don't copy over on a mac so I had to go through and manually add all the italics and the spacing between paragraphs. What a fucking nightmare. 
> 
> *Taken directly from “Charlotte the Great” by Evandar, probably my favorite fanfiction. Please, please read it. It’s a one-shot, so it’s definitely worth your time!
> 
> The heartburn line was inspired by ‘Welcome to Slytherin’ by limeta, who wrote my favorite rendition of Lucius Malfoy. My fave lines include: 
> 
> “Lucius feels his heartburn coming back just by being near such poor people.”
> 
> And on the topic of house elves:
> 
> “Do you know how to knit,'' Lucius asks, because he's a chaotic neutral man, ''Miss Granger?''


End file.
